


Renegades VII When Death Calls

by gothikuk



Series: Renegades saga [7]
Category: Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Gore, Heresy, Multi, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 00:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3468122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothikuk/pseuds/gothikuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the 31st Millennium, man has reached the stars and the glory of the Imperium of Man is at its height. The Emperor and his sons bring the worlds of man into the Imperium but, its gone wrong. The Emperor met with the beings in the warp and emerged a different man. Gone is the Imperial Truth, the Emperor believes he is now a god, vindicating all that Lorgar had preached for centuries. He has gathered those sons around him who would not betray him.</p><p>The time for enlightenment is gone. The Chaos Gods have got their hands into the most powerful Psyker the universe has ever known. He has killed his oldest friend in Constantin Valdor and his own brother Malcador the Siglite. Only Amon with two survivors of the Alyce Springs Massacre escaped. The Universe is full of evil and doubt and only Horus and his armies can hope to save the humans from the laughter of thirsting gods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He sat behind his desk, tapping his fingers to an unheard beat in his head. The private quarters were silent except for the slight hiss from his gorget every now and then as he breathed in the air of his home world.

His mind was still reeling from the events of the last few weeks. Prospero gone, he could not believe it, he had no love for Psykers but even so, genocide on that scale and against a Primarchs home world was unheard of. As much as he distrusted Psykers and, if truth be told there had been no love lost between himself and Magnus, even he would not have wished that.

When Horus had sent out a missive to his brothers, that if they had any novitiates’ that had not yet been implanted with the Gene seed of their fathers and showed Psyker promise, then they should be sent to Kegara, to aid in the rebuild of the Thousand Sons. He had done more than that, those that had been implanted and yet showed signs of the Psyker he had immediately sent along with the Novitiates’.

In a way it felt good that he was helping rebuild his brothers decimated Legion, in another it was a weight off his mind that he did not have to deal with witch sons on his own doorstep. Now having recovered from that, the death of the Great Khan was a blow that none of them had foreseen.

It would have been laughable in a sense if it was not so chilling. Primarchs were the pinnacle of gene technology, they were considered to be immortal, to less enlightened minds they were Demi-Gods of war that strode the field of battle with their immortal sons bringing the Imperium of Man to heel. Now they were vulnerable to something that they did not understand.

Something had been coated on that cursed hammer that Vulkan had wielded, and whatever it was, was an anathema to the Primarchs. Prevented their own unique healing from doing its job, the stress and strains of battle with the – and this time he uttered a disbelieving laugh – undead warriors of Nocturne and Chogoris, proved to be too much.

He doubted any of them would be complacent in their longevity now. He had never been close to his father, he had never forgiven him for the killing of his adoptive father when it had been his battle to win and yet, even he did not believe that his father would willingly accept the death of a Legions Home world, the crippling of a Primarch and now the death of a Primarch so off handily.

What troubled him just as much was that Horus had had a big argument with the Primarch of the Ultramarines, what caused the argument he did not know as neither Primarch was forthcoming as to what had caused the argument. He had no real love for Gulliman; he found their method of battle restricting and, in truth, to one who prided himself on letting his captains and his sons think on their feet, he could not see how the Ultramarines had survived so long with their military doctrine.

Then a secret voice at the back of his head answered his own thought for him, but of course we all know why the Ultramarines are one of if not the largest legion. He dismissed the voice angrily; it was not to be spoken off, even now.

He got up and looked out of his window. Space filed by lazily and for a brief moment he felt like he was on one of those ancient sailing ships that used to cruise the oceans of ancient Terra. He should have been content but he was not, he was troubled. For weeks now the Traitors had got a jump on the Imperial saviours.

Somehow they had information as to where the Legions’ of Horus would strike next in the battles to keep Imperial worlds Imperial or destroy those that were venerating the Emperor as a god. They had a leak within their Legions’ and whilst they did not know who or where, every Primarch was fearfully hoping that it was not one of their own sons.

Just last week, his sixteenth Captain Mishoga Ostana had died on the planet of Jesarus IX against a force of Imperial Fists. The mission was supposed to have been secret and the 16th Company had been all but decimated. Even now some of those sons were in serious conditions on the Death Guard vessel Reapers Shroud. He just could not understand how the mission had leaked out.

Only he and Perturabo had known about it, and Perturabo had lost two Companies. The Comrade was bellowing at the Imperial Fists who had hold up in a bastion giving the ancient Rivals more to work with and reducing them to their natural roles in siege warfare. The only regret that had been mentioned was that Dorn had not been there, and despite the losses the mission Intel had made him almost weep with joy for the Comrade.

He almost wished he had been there to see the master of Olympia take on the old rivals. He had told Ostana to do as Perturabo ordered that he was to follow the Olympian as he would his own sire. Perturabo had been most gracious in his words of honour following the death of the Captain and most of his company, and that in any roll of valour was enough to be proud off. Perturabo did not give out praise to other Legions very often.

He was waiting now for the arrival of his brother. Together they would figure out if they had the leak within their own warriors or if it was one of the traitors posing as a member of Death Guard or Iron Warrior.

“My Lord, I apologise for the intrusion upon your privacy but you may wish to hear this message we have just received” The voice of the watch officer came over his vox.

“Relay it to me here Watch Officer Jarfara”

“Yes My Lord, sending now”

He waited then listened.

“This is the Demeter, I am Custode Amon Tetromach, the last true Custode, I am asking for any of the true Imperial Legions to give me and my two companions’ safe harbour”

“Where is that coming from?” He demanded of the Watch Officer.

There was silence for a moment and then “Fifty degrees spin ward My Lord, we are within range to intercept”

“Do so, if a brother Custode has survived, then I want to see this for myself”

“By your will Lord”

Mortarion sat down and rested his thin fingers together. Something had happened for one such as Amon to be a fugitive from the man whose side he had never truly left. If Amon needed sanctuary then he would find it aboard the Indomitable Will. If he was a spy then he would not be so merciful. 

 

Garvial Loken stood, staring out the window of the gigantic observation deck aboard The Vengeful Spirit. He sported a black armband, all the Mournival did, and it was their way of showing respect to a fallen Primarch. He did not want to believe what he knew now to be true, a Primarch had fallen, but it had taken his mind several days to process the knowledge, and then several days more to accept it as fact and not some fallacy made up an enemy’s propaganda.

Gone were the days that he knew who the enemy was, it was no longer just the worlds that rebelled against the idea of Illumination, and although they still continued the Great Crusade, it was now bringing worlds into his Lords and his lords brothers banners, no, now the enemy was also those he once called Brothers-in-arms, cousins that he had fought alongside with pride and honour. He rested his head against the coolness of the glass, as if that action alone, could take away the horror of the last few weeks.

He still could not believe that one Primarch lay crippled, Magnus of all the Primarchs to be laid so low had disturbed him greatly, but now the great Kharn. He wondered what would happen if the same occurred to his beloved father, the great Horus Lupercal, would Abaddon be able to fill the void that would be left in such a wake, as Jubal Khan must now do for the Sons of Chogoris.

“Penny for them Garvi?”

He turned and straightened as Little Horus Aximand came into the bay. His Mournival brother joined his side and looked out the window with him. Since the coming to light of the treacherous behaviour of the fallen Legions and their own grandfather, the Mournival seemed to have become closer. He loved his Mournival brothers, but in the beginning he was closer to Tarik, now since Venus IX he had forged a bond with Abaddon and Little Horus.

“I am just thinking that is all Horus”

Aximand nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. He too looked like he had the weight of the Primarch on his shoulders. Which indeed he did, like his other Mournival brothers and Malgohurst, the Equerry, they were doing all they could to lighten the Primarchs load, in light of recent events.

There was a companionable silence for several long moments then slowly, Loken broke the silence.

“I was wondering if we would know an enemy from a former friend, brother or cousin if the time came”

“How do you mean brother?” Aximand asked.

“I mean, when light of the Emperors new edict came out, some off our own brothers have renounced their vow to Horus and returned to Terra, the same with the Ultramarines and whomever else. Why would they do that after all that has happened?”

Aximand was silent for a moment or two longer, considering his brothers’ question and framing his answer in his mind. Of all the Mournival, Little Horus never did anything without thought or consideration, and that included discussions on more, sensitive issues.

“Perhaps the thought of renouncing their vows to their Primarchs was a lot easier than renouncing their vows to the Emperor, it is just a shame that it appears to be the Terran born Astartes that are returning to the side of the Emperor”

Loken had noticed that, when news had broken, the Terran Lunar Wolves had left the Vengeful Spirit and soon word returned to Horus that others had returned to Terra to be beside the Emperor. Horus had accepted it, after all the Lunar Wolves were Terran before Cthonia produced the Lunar Wolves.

Abaddon had been almost incandescent with rage; he just did not want to believe that any of Horus’s sons could turn their backs on the Warmaster, regardless of where they were born.

Loken did not blame him; he has seen some brothers leave his company, brothers that had fought alongside him for decades.

“Maybe, because they were beside the Emperor when he found Lupercal they believed their loyalties lay with him first” Loken surmised “Maybe Ezekiel has a point on that”

Aximand cast Loken an amused look “You know Garvi, there was a time when you would never have said anything like that”

Loken frowned a little, unsure of what his brother was saying, and then broke into a mild chuckle and nodded in agreement. Aximand chuckled with him, but the sound was harsh, like flint, such was the sound of the men of Cthonia.

“Come brother, the Warmaster wishes the Mournival to attend him; there is something he wishes to speak to us about before he tells the rest of the Legion”

Now intrigued Loken began to walk with Aximand “Are you going to tell me? I am assuming you know”

“Once I might have done, but not this time” Aximand admitted “This time Lupercal has kept this one to himself”

“Wonders never cease” Loken murmured and with his brother walked along the corridor talking quietly with him and wondering what news the Warmaster had.

 

Louise stared at the vessel that came into view and almost had a heart attack at the sheer size of it. She had seen some pics of Astartes vessels, most notably before the current climate when the artists on all the fleets had sent home images of the Vengeful Spirit, the Phalanx and others too numerous to mention.

This one was not as ostentatious as other vessels, like the Pride of the Emperor or the Red Tear; she was trembling as she saw the massive array of weaponry that jutted from every pore. It was almost brass in colour except for the massive prow, which was green with a great skull at its maiden head. She muttered something under her breath until she felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Relax good lady” Amon gently said “That is salvation; it is the Endurance, the ship of the Death Guard and of Mortarion himself.”

Louise said nothing but just stared, her eyes almost bulging out of their sockets, and, as reassuring as Amons words were meant to be, the very thought of coming aboard a ship full of Astartes and not just any Astartes but the capital ship of the Death Lord himself, that was enough to have her almost loosen her bowels in sheer terror. Tommy was not faring much better.

Amon took the vox bead and listened, his human friends’, and they had become his friends there was no question of that, but the sheer magnitude of what was approaching them had rendered them unable to speak and so he took over the communications.

He listened as the Docking Supervisor told him to slow his engines and be prepared to be brought aboard. He acknowledged the order and picked up his helm, he did not know if he should ever wear it again, for it symbolised a dead order, the original order he knew was gone.

Still he was about to face a Primarch, and one did not dress down when receiving a Prince. He watched as the gap between them and the Endurance closed and finally they came into the landing bay. Louise almost squealed in terror as she saw the Astartes that had arrived in the hanger bay, but it was when she saw the giant that stood before them she wet herself.

He was not the biggest built Primarch she had ever seen, in fact from images she had seen as a child, he was not as big as the Wolf King, or The Red Angel, but even if he was not as big as them, it did not take away his sheer presence, white and gold armour with red cape that flowed behind him, in his hand was a large scythe that she had read somewhere was called Silence, and a strange sidearm that was known as the Lantern. Amon encouraged both her and Tommy to join him and together they all walked down the ramp and, following Amons Lead, moved to one knee before the giant.

There was silence for a moment and then the giant stepped forward, the sound of a hiss escaping his gorget. He cocked his head for a moment, his pale visage letting nothing slip.

“Welcome Amon of the Custodes” Mortarion finally spoke.

Amon got to his feet and introduced the still abasing humans. Mortarion heard the weeping coming from the woman and did something that was totally unheard of. He crouched down and held his hands out.

“Come my dear; let my human serfs see to your comfort and your needs. You and your companion are safe now”

Finally Louise raised her dirty tear streaked face and smiled with relief, she was safe. She took Mortarions outstretched hand, although his hand engulfed hers and let him draw her to stand. He placed a fatherly arm round her shoulders and nodded at a female human officer and a male human who both stepped forward and took both Tommy and Louise away leaving Amon alone with the Death Lord.

Mortarion was silent once more and Amon made no comment that registered his own surprise. Mortarion was not known for his compassion, there were some that believed he never had any of it. If Amon had not seen it with his own eyes, he might never have believed it himself.

With a motion of his head indicating that the Last Lion should follow the Death Lord, Mortarion dismissed his honour guard, and with only the Deathshroud, led Amon to his private stratagem. Amon knew what was coming and steeled himself for the Death Lords questions. He passed Calas Typhon on route and stopped for a moment; he held the First Captain of the Death Guards gaze for several long moments and then continued with his direction. Calas smiled to himself and headed away towards the Hanger bay where a Stormbird waited to take him back to his vessel the Terminus Est.

Amon was not unnerved by the First Captain, it was rare that he was unnerved by Astartes or Primarch, however, he had a feeling that there was something wrong with the First Captain, and an echo of Malcadors words ghosted into his mind.

They have eyes and ears everywhere

Amon wondered just how prophetic Malcadors words were and once more girded himself for whatever the Death Lord had in store for him.

 

Mortarion stood by his window and waited until he and the Custode were alone. He turned to face Amon and for the first time, Amon realised how pale the Death Lord looked. How, of all his brothers he felt the need to constantly breathe the poisonous air of Barbarus. He also wondered how Mortarion was dealing with the loss of his brother, The Night Haunter, the two were close, and mayhaps he believed he could change Konrads mind. Amon did not know and in effect did not want to know, it was bad enough that one Primarch lay crippled and another was dead he did not want to think what might happen if the two of them got together.

“So Amon, from the beginning, I want to know everything that happened on Terra”

Mortarion sat down and listened as Amon told him everything. He pulled a disgusted face when he was informed that Lorgar was now called the Black Pope and that name itself made the Lord of Barbarus cringe.

He closed his eyes at the news of Constantin Valdors death and the changes that had happened within the higher echelons of the Imperial Creed, including the death of Malcador. Amon told him that Malcador had put some message in his head but he was unable to retrieve it and he suspected that a Psyker might be needed to pull the information from his mind.

Mortarion cursed his luck, the very thought of dealing with Psykers was abhorrent to him, still whatever Malcador had put in Amons head had to come out. He rose to his feet as Amon described the flight from Alyce Springs, including the arrival of the Black Templars.

“The what, is this a new Chapter we do not know about?”

“Sort of my Lord,” Amon kept his gaze straight ahead “The Emperor asked Dorn to form a new chapter from some of his own company; they are let by Sigismund and are just as fanatical as the Word Bearers, although they are of Imperial Fist gene stock”

Mortarion remained silent and Amon shuddered as the Death Lords face became hard as stone. If the Emperor was allowing successor chapters to be created from his loyal sons, then that would bode ill for those that sided with Horus.

Before he could ask any more of the Custode he looked up as another giant in bronze came into the Stratagem. His face as hard as Iron and his dark eyes giving nothing away about what he might have thought or felt about anything,

In his hands was a giant hammer that had shattered many an enemy’s walls and armaments, for the second time in the last two hours Amon moved to one knee, glad that his two human companions were not here, if their reaction to Mortarion was anything to go by then seeing this man would have rendered them in a state of near catatonia.

“My Lord Perturabo” he respectfully spoke.

“Rise Custode” Perturabo commanded and Amon did as he was told.

Mortarion cast an apologetic look at Amon and told him to start his tale again; it did not matter how many times Amon told of his escape from Terra, and the details left an unreadable expression on both Primarchs faces.

“We need a Psyker here” Perturabo stated flatly “One that can unlock whatever message Malcador left in Amons mind”

“The only one that can do that is Magnus” Mortarion paced the length of his room and stopped as a thought struck him “Amon, I am going to arrange for you to go to Kegara, but until then, perhaps you can aid me and Perturabo”

Amon straightened, to feel useful again was what he wanted, to do something that felt normal for him was what he wanted and it seemed that both Primarchs sensed that within the last true Custode.

“However I can help My Lords”

“Come now Amon” Perturabo rumbled “We are aware of who your Primarch is, that makes us brothers of a fashion”

“Not quite Lord” Amon gently corrected “But I see your point”

Perturabo handed him some wine “Now as I understand it, you were one of the best at what the Custodes called the Blood Games? Explain that to me…and sit yourself down”

He waited for the two giants to sit down and then sat before them. He explained the rules of the Blood Games. How they were told to go out into Terra as far away as they were told, and then they had to make their way back to the Imperial Palace, using whatever means that they had at their disposal.

“And the goal?” Mortarion asked.

“The goal was to get as close to the Emperor as possible, as if we were going to assassinate him.”

“If I recall you were the one that had got closest to the Emperor” Perturabo had a genuine ring of awe in his voice.

No one could have blamed him for that, it was not easy to get close to the Emperor in times before this madness and the Custodes were charged with his protection. For one of them to beat the odds and get close to the Emperor, even if it was a test of the security surrounding the master of mankind was a feat in itself.

“I was finally caught by Con himself” Amon quietly spoke.

“Leng” Perturabo nodded “I know it well”

Mortarion nodded a little and sat forward, his hands steeping “Amon, both Perturabo and I believe that the Emperors Legions have a spy or spies within our Legions. Now I am aware that we could use our own Astartes for this, but, as much as we love our sons, we know that a Custodes mind-set is, completely different to that of an Astartes, that you are able to operate alone as well as in groups.”

“Yes Lord” Amon nodded “When we work in groups our individuality works as well as when we are lone warriors, we may see things that an Astartes cannot or will not, as an Astartes believes in the sanctity of brotherhood and loyalty to all. No disrespect intended”

“None taken” Both Primarchs spoke as one.

Mortarion sat back in his seat and nodded a little, more to himself than anything else “Help us last true Lion of the Custodes, use your skills to unearth the men or women responsible for whatever information is getting back to Terra”

Amon bowed his head and got up “I will be at your disposals Lords, may I see my human friends?”

Mortarion nodded and moments later the door opened to reveal Captain Nathanial Garro, his Equerry, and Captain of the vaunted Seventh Company answering his father’s summons.

“Ah Nathanial, would you show Custode Amon to his quarters and then escort him to where his friends have been rested”

“Yes My Lord”

Amon bowed his head again and walked out with Garro. Perturabo faced his brother with an arched eyebrow.

“Garro stayed and did not resend his vows?”

“You sound surprised brother” Mortarion got to his feet and returned to staring out the window “None of my Terran born sons returned to the side of the Emperor…and you?”

“Some did, but those that had both Iron Warrior and Imperial Fist Gene-Seed. Not all of them but enough. I think we should let Horus know what is going on”

“Not yet”

“Huh?” Perturabo rose to join his brother “Why not?”

“Because I am not sure if it will even get there, even if I use the astropaths or the secure transmissions. No brother, we will deal with this without Horus’s help. When I am certain we have come to a conclusion satisfactory to us both, then I will tell Horus that we have Amon, for now,” Mortarion paused and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger “for now we play it by ear.”

“You realise brother, that if there are traitors within our legions then their paymasters will know already of Amons arrival” Perturabo warned.

“They cannot strike him under our protection” Mortarion insisted then uttered a dark chuckle “Who would have thought that a Custode would be under a Primarchs protection, two as well, and us”

Perturabo smiled a rueful smile and nodded a little, he did find it absurd, there was no real love lost between the Astartes and the Custodes, their methodology differed, before they were seen as the Emperors watch dogs, his eyes and ears on the Great Crusade, now though it was different, and even the mighty Comrade had to admit Amon needed to feel useful and to have him on side was something that could be a learning curve.

 

The Iron Warriors of the 123rd Company under Serex Jasiera moved slowly across the plains. They had already sighted their target, a fortress built between the valley pass. There had been skirmishes when they arrived to bring the world to compliance, nothing that they and the Baranian 23rd could not handle. Now the prize lay before them and Jasiera stood atop a cliff ridge to get a better view of the terrain. His senior Sergeant Korna Unseles stood beside him with Colonel Jochim Strandton of the 23rd.

Jasiera glanced at the map that the human was holding he did no need such reminders, in the few moments after he had reached the ridge, and he had already taken in what surrounded him. Whoever had built the fortress, marked on the map that Strandton had acquired as Castello quae, bello Deorum “Redoubt of the war gods.” Jasiera could understand that, by the looks of the walls it would take gods to beat them down.

“Or a Titan” He mused to himself. His Sergeant and the Colonel glanced questionably at him but he did not elaborate.

There was a line of trees to the left, behind which was a larger canopy of trees that designated a dense forest, where he now stood with his companions was a high ridge that rose about ten feet into the air. Between the Forest and the rock face was a treacherous swamp; Jasiera had to admire their defence and the positioning of the fortress.

It stretched between the two cliff faces of the valley entrance, and by his estimation it was at least ten miles across. He allowed his vision to enlarge the sight and, like all Iron Warriors, he almost fell in love with the craftsmanship that had gone into its construction. The walls rose fifty feet into the air, four towers, and each housing massive guns pointed outwards ready to gun down any invader. There was a large gate carved into the stone, above which were smaller guns, positioned in such a way that they had a wide 360o view of what was before them. This was the front, ariel recon had been shot down before they got near enough to get any clean visuals, and high in the heavens, the Iron Heart could not penetrate the clouds that seemed to localise around the fortress and block any other view of it apart from the front.

Castelios Alpha was beginning to provide the Iron Warriors with a challenge. Since news of the Emperors ruling broke and the events that followed they had been nothing more than trenched warriors, now that was all changed, they were Astartes and mixed their skills with what Astartes did best. Horus knew that and he no longer allowed the sons of Olympia to become trench line warriors.

“That swamp is going to be a problem sir” Unseles mused, “Not for us but for the army and the tanks”

“There must be another way around” Strandton shook his head, “How else do they get supplies in?”

Jasiera was silent for a moment then turned to the two officers beside him,  
“Unseles, I want Scout Sergeant Saman and his squad to go with the Baranian Rangers; they are to scout the forest region and look for anything that would give explanation to the Colonels valid question.

Then I want five brothers, with a tech Marine to prop the trajectory of those guns and their distance. Kalos, Deresen, Touchou Ingis, Fenos and Tech Marine Zelon should suffice, with Kalos being recently promoted to Sergeant, this should test his mettle”

“Yes Sir”

“In the meantime, Colonel, I want your men and the brothers of Squads’ Heros, Justinian, Lorax and Hephastus to mark our trench lines as soon as the data comes in from Kalos and Squad Richeria”

“Yes My Lord, I have a suggestion lord” Strandton ventured.

“Let’s hear it” Jasiera told him.

“We could send an unmanned ship over the top, maybe find out what is blocking the ariel reconnaissance”

Both Iron Warriors glanced at each other and the Colonel believed that his suggestion was going to be laughed at. Instead the opposite happened, Jasiera nodded more to himself.

“Not a bad idea Colonel, even if it gets shot down then we will have some idea of the air trajectory. Sergeant, have Adept Bisos ready a drone of some kind, I would rather a servitor be shot down then a battle brother or member of the guard”

“Yes Sir” Strandons chest puffed with pride at his lords praise.

Both men saluted and moved down to join their respective camps. Jasiera folded his arms across his powerful chest, he had not met a fortress yet that he had not brought down, this would be a great battle, and this would be the fortress that would challenge him, of that he was certain.

 

Loken stood in the private stratagem alongside his Mournival brothers, Horus had not yet arrived, he had been in semi-seclusion since the death of the Khan, and his argument with the Ultimate Warrior had played on his mind, none of them knew what had occurred but Gulliman had been the last of the Primarchs to leave and something had occurred between them to have Horus fuming for days on end.

Abaddon had privately expressed his opinion to his brothers and Malgohurst the Equerry, which perhaps the father of the Ultramarines was preparing to make his empire a second one to rival the Grand Crusades empire building, in case it all went the way of the Emperor. None of them hoped that would occur, with half the Primarchs defecting to the Emperors new stance and the majority of the Terran born sons of the Legions behind Horus returning to their grandfathers’ side, this was turning into an uneven war. The last thing Horus wanted was to have a second empire, with a Primarch as its head, all sorts of things could happen. He wanted them to concentrate on the matter at hand, saving the Great Crusade and saving mankind from an Emperor gone mad.

Right now there was a vast programme of indoctrination into the full ranks with all the scouts across the board, and with the realisation that Psykers might be used again in the legions of the Emperor, many of the brothers who had returned to the ranks, were now being asked to don their old Librarian uniforms once more. Even Torgaddon was not his usual jokey self and Loken found that he actually missed his friends’ jovial banter, even if at times it seemed inappropriate.

Before he could ask if anyone knew what was going on the doors opened and the Warmaster swept into the room. The Mournival were about to go down to one knee when Horus waved it aside, his favoured sons need not show such abasement to him, anyone else he supposed, but not them, never them and his deep scowl prevented them from going against his wishes. He needed no show of respect from them, he already had that.

Loken noticed that his father’s armour held a large black band around the forearm and inside; in delicate Chogoris script was the name of the Great Khan.

“Do you remember what the Emperor said to me at my investiture as Warmaster?” Horus asked suddenly asked.

They all nodded, they knew it well as did the entire Legion. To recognise his authority as the supreme commander of the Emperors forces, the Emperor felt that it was necessary for the other legions to recognise the position Horus and his sons held.

“As I recall father,” Aximand said “You turned him down on the grounds that it would sew resentment within the other legions”

Horus nodded and handed the four brothers a goblet of wine, knowing full well that Abaddon and Torgaddon were drinkers of the harsh Chthonian ale that, to others outside the Legion, even the sons of Russ, was like paint stripper to the back of their throats.

“With recent events and some of my sons returning to the side of the Emperor,”

None of them failed to notice that since Prospero and the death of the Khan, Horus had stopped calling him father

“I feel that the Lunar Wolves will now be fighting beside the Emperor, so I am going to rename my Legion. I have already informed our allies of the fact and now I am telling you my Mournival so that you can inform the Legion”

“You are really going to do it?” Torgaddon frowned a little.

“Hubris be damned Tarik from this day forth the Lunar Wolves will be those companies that left for the mad god, we will be the Sons of Horus” His eyes burned bright with the knowledge that he was right in what he had decided

“I am the Warmaster and I am going to continue the Great Crusade and take back the Imperium of man and my brave sons and daughters, let us not forget the thousands of Imperial army that fight beside us, will war in my name and the name of the true Legions.”

Malgohurst cleared his throat and all looked at the Equerry “I have already informed the Legion sire, or should I say you have”

Horus frowned a little then heard the roar of those aboard the Vengeful Spirit, from the mighty Astartes to the below decks crew.

“Lupercal, Lupercal, Lupercal”

Horus wiped his eyes a little “White armour, green trim that will be our new colours and its time we took back the Imperium”

The Mournival realised that with the events of Prospero and the death of the father of the Steppes of Chogoris, Horus had begun to see that this was not a flash in the pan, if it was a war their Emperor wanted, then a war it would be.

“I need to make sure that our Legions are loyal to the cause” Horus moved to sit behind his desk and motioned his sons to sit down “I have received word from Mortarion that Amon Tetromach, the last Lion as they are calling him, not only escaped Terra with word that the world is well and truly in the throes of this blasted cult of the Emperor, but that Constantin Valdor and Malcador are dead”

Horus paused for a moment, his grief at the loss of Constantin obvious; Valdor was a companion to the young Horus when he was on Terra with his father, a second father figure. Malcador held the Warmasters respect and the loss of the Regent was equally damning.

“What did Amon say?” Abaddon asked quietly.

All the Mournival had a deep respect for the Captain-General of the Custodian Guard. The news of his demise and that of the Regent meant that there was now no one who would oppose the Emperor and his Legions on Terra.

“Lorgar is now the Black Pope” Horus saw the disgusted looks that crossed his sons’ faces and had to agree with them. “At the moment Amon believes he is acting Regent but Amon suspects that will go to Dorn when the time comes. The Imperial Fists have a second chapter. Sigismund is the Chapter master of a Chapter of fanatics who call themselves The Black Templars.  
Amon and two Terrans were the only survivors’ from a town called Alyce Springs, the rest of its inhabitants were killed but the children were taken. He heard that the boys would be given to the Legions or turned into Custodes and the girls would be trained as a sisterhood devoted to the Emperor”

“This just gets worse” Torgaddon ran a hand down his face.

Horus made his hands into a steeple and his eyes darkened “Mortarion and Perturabo also believe that there is someone within their Legions who is reporting back to Terra, the last few worlds they fought on ended with casualties to companies they had sent there. From my understanding Amon is going to help with that, however, I have spoken to my brothers and we are going to ensure the same thing does not happen to us.”

“What about the Alpha Legion?” Loken asked “They work on secrecy and infiltration”

“Garvi is right” Abaddon agreed “What if they are the spies? They never answer anything without riddles, and you never know when one of them or several of them are within your brothers.”

“Easy enough to solve” Aximand swept his gaze across the room “We know that the Alpha Legion are with us but, as you so rightly say Ezekiel, we cannot know if they have another agenda, so, we get the company Captains across the fleets to order their companies for genetic testing. They can infiltrate and do a good job but they cannot fool a genetic scan. It would show up”

Horus nodded in agreement, “Have all Legionnaires report to the Apothecaries’ but I want them to think it is for a fitness test, I do not need them to start thinking they are mistrusted, we will keep this between us. Should anything turn up then we will deal with it accordingly.”

“What about Mortarion and Perturabo?” Loken asked.

“They will conduct their affairs as they see fit, however they will keep me informed. For now we are cleaning house and I hope by the hand of the ship that we have no spies within.”

The Mournival rose to their feet and bowed their heads “Is there anything else Lord?” Abaddon asked.

“Find me a world that needs our help Ezekiel, a world that we can bring to our banner, I need to feel like I am doing something useful.”

“Yes Lord”

The Mournival left their father to his thoughts. Malgohurst was about to leave when Horus suddenly asked.

“Tell me Mal; have you ever seen Alpharius and Omeagon in the same room as each other?”

“Yes lord, Omeagon is the commander of the Effrite Squad and the First Captain”

“That’s not what I meant. All the Alpha Legion are alike, sometimes you do not really know if you are talking to Alpharius, what I meant was have you noticed how similar Alpharius and Omeagon are, more than any other of the Alpha warriors.”

Malgohurst cocked his head a little “What are you saying lord?”

“I am saying that perhaps there are some secrets about the Alpha Legion that even the Emperor does not know. I think I will arrange to meet them both, and then I will know for certain.”

Horus fell silent and the Equerry left his father too it, perplexed by his father’s words.


	2. Chapter 2

Amon brushed a strand of hair from Louise’s brow, it was an oddly human thing for him to do, and he had given up much of his humanity to become a Custode so many decades ago. There had been someone once, back when he was human, he could not recall her name, so many memories of being a Custode had overtaken what little memories he had as a human. All he could remember was, that he did care about this memory, she had been his first and in effect his last. His duty to the Emperor had come first.

Still, he felt that he had become close to the two surviving members of his little band of rebels. Tommy had been checked over and had been released from the care of the Imperial Army Infirmary. Amon had seen him earlier and had been relieved to discover that, whilst the sight of so many Astartes had sent the hackles on his neck standing up, the young man did not hold a grudge against these Astartes. Amon suspected that the unusually empathy shown by Mortarion, and the fact the human had been in the presence of a Primarch, had soothed the man’s fears that perhaps all the sons of the Emperor had become the killers of the innocent.

Tommy had joined the 231st Expeditionary Fleet and the Imperial Army of Kalous under the command of General Isaiah Keogh, who ultimately answered to Mortarion. Amon had the feeling that the young Private would go far. Louise, well she had collapsed in the Infirmary and the Nurse had told the hovering Custode it was exhaustion mixed with shock.

He had remained beside Louise ever since, his presence had un-nerved some of the Humans there, finding it hard to reconcile that this giant was the last true Custode of the old Imperial Truth. He did not care; all he cared about was letting Louise know that he was there for her, as she had been there for him, her and her friends who had all risked their lives to ensure he had got off Terra and to the loyalist forces. He did not want to think what would have happened if it had been Dorn or Urillean that had picked them up.

++Captain Tauromachian Leng, we are ready for you, Battle Captain Garro will join you in the Primarchs sanctum++

Amon started at the use of his name, it had been so long since he had heard it put like that he had almost forgotten what it sounded like. Most people just called him Amon. Leng was a relatively new addition to his already extensive name roll. He wished now he had completed his mission, brought it to an end and maybe, just maybe this madness would not have been born.

++Who is this?++ He asked, he was not familiar with all the names of the Astartes here, it would not take him long to memorise them, but still it was unnerving to think that his reputation proceeded him.

++I am Sergeant Kellion Sir, the Primarch sends his respects and wishes you to forgive his intrusion upon your private contemplations, but he requests your presence++

Amon sighed a little. Once upon a time it was unheard of for a Custode and a Primarch to speak of respect. If he was honest the only one he seemed to have respect from was Rogal Dorn, but then he was the Primarch who spent much of his time on Terra, even before the madness that was taking place.

How things have changed, once I would have been seen as the Emperors spy, now I am a warrior without a home and a Primarch trusts me….how Ironic he thought to himself.

++Tell Lord Mortarion I will be with him and Battle Captain Garro shortly++

++Yes Sir++

Amon gazed once more at the sleeping woman, and leaning over he kissed her forehead and walked away, leaving the nurse in attendance with a shocked expression on her face.

 

From the walls of the Castello quae, Bello Deorum other eyes watched the Iron Warriors begin that which they were famous throughout the Imperium for. There were no better Siege warriors then the sons of Perturabo, everyone knew that, even Dorn and his sons. It was often wondered if Perturabo and Dorn were not so dissimilar, one the master of fortress building, the other the master of fortress breaking. Then again, a fortress built by the Comrade and his sons was truly an art of work itself.

The humans that stood along the walls with their weapons resting on the battlements had no true idea what they were up against, if this was a normal battle then they would either surrender or die within a week or two. The Iron Warriors only ever gave one chance to surrender and sometimes, it was better to do that then be besieged by the children of Olympia.

How fortunate then, that he had been given the task of sending a message to Perturabo, that he had chosen the wrong side, had it not been for the information received from the Popes informant within the forces of the Renegades, then he might not have had this opportunity to test his mettle against a cousin Legion. The human dressed in the uniform of a Captain looked nervously up at the black clad warrior beside him.

“My Lord what are your orders?” He asked, barely keeping the tremor from his voice.

“Wait” The Astartes commanded, “When I give the signal they will have the surprise of their lives. Do not worry Captain Hungstrad, your men and women fight for the glory of the Emperor, my men and I shall deal with the Iron Warriors, you just make sure your guns keep their Imperial Army at bay”

“Yes my Lord, for the Emperor”

“Indeed” The Astartes closed his eyes “and for the Primarch”

“The Mighty Lion is with us this day, I can feel it my lord”

“My father is here through me, be grateful that the First Legion is with you”

Captain Alejandro Ismailia of the Dark Angels 93rd Company smiled to himself, he would help redeem the honour of the First Legion in the eyes of the almighty Emperor. What Perturabo had done to his father, so let the son do to his cousins. 

 

The bridge of the mighty vessel was shrouded in a single eerie red glow. The human crew of this feared vessel of the Emperors forces said little, unless it was in the course of their duties. The true Commander of this ship stood behind the Admiral, his hulking terminator armour doing little to hide his true bulk, the servos whined a little as he moved, and a slight hiss from his vox grill showed his irritation at the length of time he had been kept waiting.

It had been hours, he would have thought that with the news he had, and despite the communication lapses, he would have got an answer, he was after all not just any spy, but the First Captain. That demanded respect, the more he waited, the more irritated he got. That bastard Erebus had better be doing really important to warrant this behaviour. He may have held the position of First Chaplain of the Word Bearers, but he was not a First Captain.

Calas Typhon was about to return to his stratagem when, with a nervous voice the vox officer informed him that there was a face to face message coming through for him and motioned to the holo-stand. With a grunt Typhon acknowledged his Vox officer and moved to stand before the imager. It really was a remarkable piece of technology; one could talk to another Astarte or Primarch as if they were in the room with them, and not on another vessel.

He removed his helm and clipped it to his belt, a handsome man with the blood of the Warlords that once ruled Barbarus in his veins, before the coming of Mortarion, he would tell this upstart Chaplain exactly what he thought of him. He had done everything that was expected of him, and ordered of him.

The image shimmered at first and the other person was not all that clear, Typhon was about to start his admonishment when suddenly all his wind was taken from his sails, he swallowed several times and adjusted his stance to one of respect, unlike the one of annoyance he had been conveying.

“Hello Calas, I believe you have some very interesting news for me, let me first say that your work keeping us informed of the Renegades and heretics is greatly appreciated, I know that your own patron is very pleased with your actions thus far, now my brave and beloved nephew, tell me all you have to tell me, and leave nothing out”

Lorgar Aurelian, the Lord of the Word Bearers and the Black Pope himself sat back in his command throne. The smile was warm and genuine as he awaited Typhon’s report. He listened as The Death Guards first Captain told him about the death of the Khan and the arrival of Amon Tetromach. A slight fumble of his brow revealed the Primarchs sight annoyance at this news but still he listened.

“The Dark Angels are ready to bombard the Iron Legion” He finally spoke when Typhon had finished. “How many of your brothers stand ready to join the Emperor Calas?”

“Just my company and the Second Company My Lord” Typhus replied.

Lorgar nodded, he knew it would be a matter of time before Mortarion and indeed Perturabo would discover the traitor in the ranks, it was time for Calas to bring himself to the seat of power.

“Then speak to your brother Captain and make your way to Terra, you will be Dusk Raiders once more.”

“Your will be done My Lord”

The image faded and Lorgar turned to Erebus who emerged from the shadows. He arched an eyebrow and cocked his head as Bal Sangos and Argal-Tal stepped with him.

“You do not trust him Erebus” Lorgar did not ask.

“He is of the old Warlord clans that were decimated after Mort – I mean Lord Mortarion rose to power” Erebus corrected quickly, despite the factions, Lorgar was still a stickler for protocol regarding his brothers. "I suspect he will have his own agenda Father”

Lorgar nodded, “As ever my dark Bishop your insight serves you well, still he is marked for another, and that is the grandfathers business, not ours. I am however concerned at Amon reaching Mortarion and Perturabo.”

“What are your orders Father?” Sangos asked.

“The Emperor….”

“Beloved by all” His sons intoned.

“Indeed, he will say let it fall as it will, at the moment he is tending to Vulkan and I do not wish to disturb him whilst my brother lays gravely wounded.”

None of them failed to notice the grief laced within their Primarchs words, he had felt responsible as he had suggested Vulkan going to broke terms with the Khan, not even Lorgar knew the events that would lead to the death of a Primarch. He had mourned the death of the Khan, he was after all his brother, as he had grieved for the Crimson King, whom even now, despite their differing sides, Lorgar still thought fondly about.

“Let Grandfather Nurgle have Typhus and his allies, but ensure that Mortarion and Perturabo believe that it was all his doing, let nothing be found that will lead back to the Emperor.”

Sangos chuckled a little “Anyone would think we were Alpha Legion”

“Sometimes Brother,” Argal-Tal, and Lorgars most favoured son spoke “We have to act like others to get our job done”

Lorgar let them have their banter “As long as it is done my sons, I want none to believe that Typhus and his allies acted under our orders.”

“It shall be done Father” Erebus bowed his head, Sangos and Argal-Tal likewise offered their respects and all three left their father to his thoughts.

 

Deep under the Himalaysia one man worked tirelessly without sleep or food. Those that worked with him, monitoring machines and giving him whatever he required when he required, knew better then to tell him to rest. The life pod was suspended high the mortals, the Golden armoured figure stood before the pod. Inside the naked, ebony skinned warrior slept as the magic’s that had first created him, now sought to heal him from the injuries he had sustained at the hands of his now dead brother.

They turned as another giant in gold walked into the room, and at a look from the new Regent of Terra, they left him alone with his father. Rogal Dorn moved to one knee and waited for his father to acknowledge him.

“I did not want this Rogal” The Emperor finally spoke “I did not want brother killing brother; it is like….history repeating itself over again.”

Dorn assumed his father meant the way of human nature during war and did not hear or suspect the deeper meaning behind his father’s words. He moved fluently to his feet and joined his father’s side, casting a respectful gaze at his silent brother.

“We have had more arrivals from the other Legions father, they have forsaken their fathers to fight beside the Grandfather, and there are even Ultramarines amongst them”

The Emperor arched an eyebrow, now that was interesting news, of all the sons of Terra who had joined their gene-fathers, the last sons he expected to return were those Terran born sons of the Ultramarines.

Dorn cleared his throat and shifted a little “Was Malcadors death and Valdors absolutely unavoidable father?”

The Emperor lowered his head a little and for a moment Rogal thought that he was not going to answer him, since his return from Alyce Springs he had said little. Valdor had been given a warriors funeral, but of Malcador there was nothing left. It was as if the Emperor had wanted him obliterated from history. Had it been anyone else than that might have been the case, but this was Malcador and he was not so easy to wipe from history.

“They made their choices Rogal” Was all the Emperor said, Dorn was wise enough not to press the issue.

The Emperors Champion changed subject and rested his hand against Vulkans life pod. It seemed unreal that the most silent of the brothers, should be floating in this life preserving fluid, whatever Jugathi had hit him with, had done enough damage to render a Primarch low.

“Will he recover?”

“I believe he will in body, I am not so sure about his mind” The Emperor sighed “Every now and then his EEG spikes and his body jerks, it is almost as if he is reliving his battle with Jugathi”

“Perhaps it will haunt him forever, you are aware that the Scars will never forgive the Salamanders for the death of their father, they have long memories and their hunts can last for centuries”

The Emperor smiled a little sadly, “It is the way it is Rogal. Where once they were allies, they are now enemies. It saddens me that they side with Horus, and it saddens me even more that Horus does not see the path as clearly as you or your brothers.”

“It saddens me too father,”

The Emperor looked on his son and rested a fatherly hand on his shoulder “I know that you and Horus are close, maybe he will see sense eventually, I suspect he is a little pissed that I did not confide in him first. He always did think that I should tell him everything”

Dorn shrugged a little. When the Emperor had named him Warmaster, there were those amongst their brothers who saw it as folly, who believed that they were worthier of the accolade. The Lion and Angron were amongst those mutterings, He supposed it was only natural that Horus felt, as the First amongst his brothers he should be privy to the Emperors’ thoughts and actions. He was not the oldest, that was Sanguinius, and however he was the only one who had been raised alongside the Emperor, when he had been found on Cthonia.

“Heal soon brother” He whispered to the life pod, “Your sons await your return as do your brothers”

 

“Dark Angels, here?” Jasiera returned to looking at the Bastion before him, his work crews working hard to meet his and his brothers exacting commands.

When the report from the Scout Team had come in via their sergeant he had not wanted to believe it, but now, now it seemed that the Dark Angels were looking to exact a measure of revenge against the Iron Warriors for the Hansana Campaign and then there was the deaths of the 54th Company which, once Lord Russ and Lord Khan had spoken to the Comrade, was believed to be part of the Dark Angels bargain with the Dark Eldar.

He spat on the ground in disgust, the acid boiled the sand beneath his feet and hissed through to the bedrock. He should have known that whatever the Comrade ordered his sons then the accursed First would be there to thwart it. He had always found the Dark Angels too secretive and paranoid for their own good, and they had the cheek to accuse his beloved father of being the king of paranoia. At least his father did not see enemies where there were allies, mainly because up until recent events, the Iron Warriors tended to keep themselves to themselves.

Suddenly they were no longer just siege masters, they were doing what they were all wrought to do, they were not just breaking and building bastions, they were warring as Astartes should do. Horus, the mighty Warmaster had unleashed their true potential.

Some part of him did not want to believe this madness, not one of his brothers wanted to believe it but now, now it was plain to see that the Dark Angels were not there to aid them, and what stuck in Jesara’s mind first and foremost was how did they know the Sons of Olympia were here?

He did not want to think that an Iron Warrior would betray them, those that could not reconcile their oaths to the Primarch with their oaths to the Emperor had long gone, one company had returned to Terra. No he did not believe that an Astartes would do such a thing.

Standing before the bastion he opened his inter-vox channel ++Brothers of Iron, brothers and sisters of the Imperial Army it would seem that our enemy has unwanted allies. Brothers and sisters of the honoured Baranian forces, concentrate your attack on the humans. Brothers of Iron, we are to face the Dark Angels. Iron within, Iron without….Iron within, Iron without....Iron within…..++

IRON WITHOUT

The shout came back but, much to the amazement of the Warsmith, not just from his brothers, but from the humans too. These brave mortals had been within his company for many years, the descendants of the original warriors. Long ago he had forsaken his humanity to become a Transhuman, a warrior of Perturabo, but that did not mean he did not understand the need for human companionship.

He had been witness to the new arrivals that had come into the humans lives and he had seen them grow up to become strong human warriors, warriors that he was proud to serve alongside. To hear them take up the Iron Warriors chant now, well it made him beam with pride.

++We start at dawn; there will be no surrender terms given, not now that we know their allies. ++ He closed the vox and glanced at his Sergeant  
“Prenara, it is time to teach the bastard sons of a bastard Primarch not to interfere in Iron Warrior business”

The Sergeant bowed his head and handed him the report from the drones. Jasiera read the report and he nodded to himself. The enemy had a full company of Dark Angels. Their bikes would remain useless due to the bog that separated the warring fields but that did not mean they had no other way of attack and defence, assault squads, jet bikes and Dreadnoughts.

“Are our blessed brothers awake?” He asked.

“Aye my lord” Prenara nodded “Venerable brothers Isolder, Lenorida and Casillo are awake, Isolder has asked to speak with you”

Jasiera nodded and without a word made his way to where the Dreadnoughts were housed. As Warsmith he held utmost authority, but when the ancient Isolder, a warrior with more battles won than any in his company, the revered former Warsmith of his company did not summon often and when he did, it was a fool who ignored them.

 

Castello quae, Bello Deorum was for the most part on alert. Every wall was manned, every gun placement was waiting, and the spirits within ready to unleash hell on the invaders and the tension in the air was thick and heavy. Thick and heavy for the humans that is, for deep within the bastions chambers the Dark Angels waited. They were in a large circle, heads bowed and all on one knee, before them stood their Chaplain Redemptor Kerasa. He had a large book in his left hand and was reading from it.

His Crozius, the symbol of his office glowed ever so slightly. Before the Emperors apotheosis he was expected to keep the well-being of his brothers under his care, now it was more than that. Now he catered to their spiritual needs as well as their battle ardour.

Chosen by the Lion himself, Kerasa was one of the last of the original order to be raised into the ranks of the Astartes. As a young knight he had shown an uncanny ability to inspire his brother knights in battle and had impressed the Lion with his oratory skills. Now he stood reading from the Book of Faith, works of the Black Pope and a must for those trained in the new faith.

“Brothers, we are the sons of the Lion, the grandsons of the Emperor and out there are the sons of our heretic uncle Perturabo, the heretics have seen fit to defile a world of the Emperor, to bring it to the darkness of the unbelievers and this my brothers, this we cannot allow.” His voice raised a little as he got into the swing of his speech “We are the mighty First Legion, the heretical dogs that dare call themselves protectors of mankind with their bastard alpha, dared to spurn the aid of our most beloved sire.

They dared to eject our father and brothers from a traitor’s haven. They dare to set themselves above the laws of our most beloved grandsire, so it is to us, the sons of the Lion, master of the First Legion to show these reprobates that they will suffer for their crimes against the Imperial Faith.”  
He walked around, anointing his brothers and speaking words of the ancient order as well as blessings of the Emperor and the strength of the Lion within them. Once the preparations had been completed he deferred to the Captain.

“Let us take the fight to the sons of Perturabo” Ismailia glared “and bring glory to the Lion”

“For the Lion!” the battle brothers chorused and the Dark Angels made their way to the surface.

 

Amon found Mortarion and Garro, Perturabo was still with him but his First Captain Forrix had now joined them, the Iron Warrior inclined his head in Amons direction, the Custode returned the greeting.

In the time it took him to get from the Infirmary to the Primarchs Sanctum a sense of urgency seemed to have taken hold of him. If there was a spy in the “Rebels” ranks, it would be someone of high enough rank and someone that had access to battle plans and the like.

“How do you propose we work round this Captain?” Forrix asked.

Amon had never met Forrix, but his reputation was well known, an Iron Warrior without peer, his organisational skills were phenomenal, Amon supposed that other Astartes and human field officers could learn from his example. He was a siege warfare expert second only to his father, indeed it had been rumoured that Forrix planned much jointly with the Comrade as his fresh eyes and insight were lauded.

“All I can say for certain is that Erebus…”

“Curse that whoreson” Garro murmured then glanced around to see the others look at him with mild amusement on their faces “Apologies lords, Captains just that name irks me”

“My Battle-Captain has had numerous…debates with the Word Bearer” Mortarion explained.

“I can empathise with that” Amon ruefully agreed “Erebus has a spy within the ranks of the Rebels, I do not know who or to which Legion they belong, however given the recent troubles you have both had with certain victories being taken from your grasp, and especially the problems the Iron Warriors have had with the Dark Angels, the only conclusion I can come with after reading the battle reports, is that the spy or spies are high ranked. Only a High ranking Astartes or Field Commander would have access to the battle plans you all formulate”

“Did you not even get an inkling of who it might be?” Perturabo asked.

“No Lord, once we had got Malcador off planet then Constantin would have told me for he knew, it was what tipped his hand towards joining you all, but – well he died before I could discover what he knew”

“It is conceivable that Malcador also knew and that is what is locked in your skull Captain Leng” Forrix remarked.

Amon nodded “In truth First Captain Forrix, I do not know what the Sigillite put in my head; I was not privy to what information he put in there”

“I recommend monitoring of all command traffic” Perturabo got back to business “If an Iron Warrior is working for that jumped up religious fanatic I will personally teach them what it means to betray me”

Mortarion arched an eyebrow. Perturabo took it personally when something went wrong within his expeditionary fleets, he did not suffer betrayal easily and it stained his honour. If he said he was going to punish the spy then that is what he would do.

“That won’t be easy Lord” Amon interjected “One, we do not know who it is and I am only going off the recent incidents you have both had with battle casualties and losses, and two may I suggest another idea?”

“Please do” Mortarion folded his arms across his chest, his mighty scythe nestled between his powerful arms.

“Sow the seeds of misinformation. Allow it to be known that the Iron Warriors and Death Guard are prosecuting a war together, and then circulate it amongst both your inner circles”

Garro nodded in approval “Whomever is in Erebus’s pocket will have informed him and we will have a surprise waiting for them”

“Assuming they take the bait and the traitor dogs in our ranks team up with whomever is sent to – distract us,” Forrix nodded clearly warming to the idea “any idea where?”

Perturabo narrowed his eyes, his dark hair low across his brow “I know just the place” He called up the holographic image of his choosing.

“Mandarax” Forrix whispered

“I have had reports that the populace have sided with the Emperor, I for one do not like the idea that a world I brought into compliance, lost warriors, human and Astartes for it to fall backwards.”

Perturabo met his brothers gaze, the silence was heavy, unspoken words saying more than voices. The silence broken by the hiss of Barbarus air around Mortarions gorget.

“Mandarax it is” He agreed “Amon?”

Amon was silent for a moment, he was taking in what he was seeing, Mortarion and Perturabo, until now had rarely worked together, in truth Perturabo had proffered his own company and had kept his affairs away from the other Primarchs.

Now though, with everything that was happening and the universe turning on its head. Old rivalries were being set aside.

“Inform your inner circles” Amon told them “For Erebus only deals with Primarchs inner circles”

Perturabo nodded “I shall meet you there brother,”

Mortarion closed his hand round his brothers’ wrist “See you there brother”

Amon hoped he was wrong but on some level he knew he was right, the only thing he could not work out was why? All those who supported the Emperor had left their Legions so he began to wonder if there was another scheme at work here.

More than even his former master was aware off.


	3. Chapter 3

The bridge of the Terminus Est. hustled and bustled with activity. To allay suspicion from the other members of the Legion, they had continued on with their patrol route but there were others aboard the vessel and she was not alone. The Tempus Fugite, the vessel of the Third Company and her Captain Devlain Maragos was alongside as was the Eternal Scythe, the vessel of the  
Second Company and their Captain Ignatius Grulgor.

The two Captains and their retinue were already aboard but so far Typhon remained in his solitude. Deep within the Terminus Est. was a chapel, had Mortarion known about this he would have punished the entire First Company; fortunately Typhon was smarter than his Primarch. The Chapel remained hidden from view and it was not even on the ship’s deck plans. If anyone saw it, they would assume it was a training room or storage area. None of his company spoke about it, nor did the crew, they knew better.

There was a shrine to the Emperor in the corner of the chapel, but it was not that shrine that Typhon was knelt before with his head bowed. The fixation of Typhon’s adoration was a strange three ringed symbol with three arrows pointing in different directions. He had always known about this god, before the Emperor had returned from his journey into the warp. He had already made his pact and sold his soul. He had done all that was expected from him and now he felt that his reward was drawing near.

He remained in silent prayer, mouthing the litanies that he had been shown and that had been taught, when Erebus had come to him and discussed Typhon’s plans he had already told the Death Guard that Nurgle had his eye on that Legion, but if all the Death Guard did not want to follow in the faith of Papa Nurgle than choose those who would follow him.

He rose from his kneeling position and stretched his neck muscles, he let the doors close behind him and only then was he informed off the arrival of the second and third captains. He turned to Sergeant Refax, the cold smile barely touching his eyes.

“It is time my friend, Mortarion will learn that nothing escapes the demands of the gods, especially the one we serve”

 

The war had begun.

The first salvo came from the Bastion and landed short of the Iron Warriors first trench line, to the observing Warsmith, it was pretty obvious that they were ranging their weapons; it would not be long before they hit home and he did not want that, not yet. He turned as the figure loomed beside him and bowed his head.

“You said they would fire first brother” Jasiera sighed, “It used to be so much easier when they surrendered after Perturabo offered his peace terms”

The sound that came from the ancient Dreadnought was a cross between an irritated hiss and a sigh. “Brother, times have changed since I walked amongst you all with my true form”

Isolder had been one of the original warriors that Perturabo had brought from Olympia to join with the Terran Iron Warriors. Perturabo did not have much of a pleasant time as a youth but Isolder had been one of his friends, if such a thing had been possible for the young Primarch to have.

When the Primarch had declared war on his adoptive father, Isolder had been there beside him and had been the first elevated into the Legion when Perturabo took them over. He could have been First Captain, but he had been Perturabos’ Equerry.

He had been horrendously crippled against the Orks, but whilst his body was broken his mind was still sharp as ever, and Perturabo, not wanting to lose his old friend allowed him to be interred into a Dreadnought. Jasiera knew that eventually the honoured brothers in the Dreadnoughts would lose their lucidity, such was the way of things for those venerable brothers, but Isolder still had his sharp mind and wit to keep what remained of the man inside still a man of the time and not slip back into his previous life’s memories.

“Did you take my advice Jasiera?”

“I did old friend” Jasiera nodded “I have sent Bellicose Squad to meet up with the scouts that are watching the bastion.”

“Good, this would be their induction into the full Astarte ranks, I suspect father will need as many as he can get by the time this is over” Isolder sighed “What will you do in the meantime?”

“Do what we always do” Jasiera grinned “I already know the trajectory needed for our guns and if there is a company of Dark Angels in there, then I shall bring them to us. The sons of the Lion will wish they had found another field for us to meet on”

“Confidence is a good thing Jasiera, but we are Iron Warriors, Iron within….”

“Iron without” Jasiera concluded, acknowledging his friends hidden meaning “I am confident in our abilities and know that we are not guided by false beliefs”

“These are very true but, remember this brother with a belief that strong fanaticism is a powerful tool of war and as it was in days gone by, it is not an easy enemy to defeat”

Jasiera open his vox to the gunners ++Fire++ he growled and as one the roars of the Iron Warriors heavy weapons fired against the bastion walls. 

 

The walls of the Castello quae, Bello Deorum shook as the shells from the Iron Warriors heavy weapons barrage all struck home with precision and accuracy that few other Legions could attain. The screams of those who had been manning the walls then crushed under the falling battlements and rubble was drowned out in the sound of concrete crashing to the floor.

In the midst of the carnage being inflicted upon the curtain wall of the Bastion a squad of Iron Warriors under the command of Sergeant Lennax with two scouts and two humans made their way through the tree line. They co-ordinated their moves with the timing of the shells striking the walls to mask their movements, even so despite their armour, they still moved with a stealth that belayed their size.

“Would it be that we had our cousins of the Raven Lord with us Brother-Sergeant” brother Artenena whispered to his Sergeant.

Lennax grunted his agreement, when it came to stealth there were none better than the Raven Guard and the Night Lords, the Night Lords were not an option anymore, and if rumours were to be believed, Corax was still shocked at the Emperors sudden turn around and the recent loss of the 120th company of the Raven Guard to the Night Lords. No one knew what the Lord of Deliverance would do next but his Primarch was almost certain that he would do something.

Coronus came before him and bowed her head, “My Lords” She quietly spoke “I believe Terax and I have found an old tunnel that leads to the Bastion”

Lennax smiled behind his helm, despite himself, this human female was one of the best scouts he had ever seen and he had not even been aware they were following their own path until now. Ordinarily that would have been a reprimand for disobeying orders, but on this occasion, he settled for the fact they had used their Initiative.

He moved his left hand and two brothers stepped forward. He then told Coronus to lead them to the entrance and they made their way slowly, watching all the time not for human patrols, but for other patrols. Lord Isolder had made it plain that they were to try a different tact as they were dealing with the sons of the Lion, subterfuge was not their normal path but this time, well Lennax wondered if this time the sons of Olympia would find something else they were good at.

 

Typhon met his fellow Captains in his stratagem, he did not care that he had kept them waiting for almost an hour; devotions to the papa came first. He waited until they were alone and turned to face them. The eerie glow of the Terminus Est. bathed his handsome features to their fullest extent. Grulgor folded his arms across his chest.

“Are you in the habit of keeping your senior brothers waiting Calas?” Grulgor was not happy and he did nothing to hide his irritation, he did not like being kept in the dark about what the famous First Captain was planning.

Typhus was aware of that fact, it made it easy to manipulate Grulgor who on occasions was a sycophant to whomevers star was rising had the favour of the Primarch or the First Captain. Typhus was also aware that the hatred Grulgor had for any Death Guard who was Terran born blinded him a little to the real opportunities, his rivalry with the Sevenths beloved Battle-Captain made him reckless at times.

Typhus needed his plan to work and that could mean getting Nathanial Garro on side, despite his deep loyalty for Mortarion, he was also Terran and surely that meant that his loyalty to the Golden Throne outweighed those concerns.

“You have a problem with me taking my time Ignatius?” Typhus asked  
cordially, but Maragos noticed that the sentiment did not touch his Firsts eyes and wisely kept his mouth shut.

“I have a problem with all this secrecy Calas, why can you just not bring us into whatever you have planned from the start?”

The next words that came from Grulgors throat was a sickening crunch as Calas lifted him off his feet and squeezed. Maragos moved quickly and placed his hand on Typhus’s arm.

“Brother….we is here as you requested, do not do this…”

He stopped as Ignatius Grulgor fell to the floor, Typhus ignored his arrogance towards others, but his disrespect towards him was intolerable.

“Is he dead?” Typhus coldly asked.

Maragos checked the prone Captains neck and nodded “His neck is broken, Calas…”

“Pick him up and follow me, he won’t be dead for long”

Maragos, not wanting to be the next focus of the First Captains ill humours did as he was asked. He did not know what Calas Typhus had in store for the dead Second Captain but he sure as hell did not want to be on the end of that wrath.

 

In his private quarters on the Destiny’s Hand, the Black Cardinal, First Chaplain Erebus was implementing his father’s orders. He had ensured that the information Lorgar wanted revealed was hidden, but not so that it would not be found. After all he did not want to give them any easy track to find.

Erebus was also aware that Typhus had his own agenda, like all his brothers he worshipped Chaos Undivided with the Emperor as the main focus of their worship as he had been since before the Emperor had his epiphany. It irked him that not all his cousins saw things the way the Word Bearers did, but it was not his place to question a Primarch, even though there were times he wanted to.

Typhus however had no interest in the Golden Throne and what Erebus had gleaned over the years was, that he didn’t much respect his Primarch either, that annoyed him, no matter what the Primarchs were the fathers of the Astartes. Mortarions on Genome had been used to create the Death Guard, he was their father and he deserved the respect of his sons, even the Death Guard who had returned to the side of the Emperor still spoke with love and honour of their father.

He had also learnt that Typhus had made a pact with the being they called Papa Nurgle, or Grandfather Nurgle, the great master of decay. It was this revelation that had made Lorgars decision for him. The Death Guard were unique in that they had a higher resilience to atmospheres that could cause any other Astartes problems after a while, it was perfectly understandable why the Plague God wanted them all to himself, and that was fine, after all one did not upset the will of the gods.

What had annoyed Lorgar was that all the time he had been preaching the Emperors Divinity in the before times, Typhus had made a point of mocking the Word Bearers for the same thing he had been doing already.

With a sneer on his face he set the wheels in motion if Typhus wanted the favour of Grandfather Nurgle he would get it, but he would be taught a lesson first, one that had been a long time in coming….

“So,” Amon turned to Garro, “Why did you not return to the side of the Emperor Nathanial?”

Garro looked up from studying the reams of Transcripts that he and Amon had spent the last day and a half looking through, both hoping to find that one lead that would tell them where the traitor was and who they were.

Garro was a tall man and large for an Astartes, he bore the title Battle-Captain, an honour bestowed upon him by the Emperor back when the Death Guard were known as the Dusk Raiders and for reasons that escaped him, the Death Guard were made up of seven Grand Companies.

Typhus was the First Captain, Grulgor was also known as the Commander and Garro was the Battle-Captain, there was also something about the number seven that intrigued Mortarion and was one of the Primarchs own personal eccentricities.

“When I served in the Dusk Raiders I followed the Emperor without question Amon, I would have gone through the fires of nuclear war for him and back. He had preached that man did not need an invisible deity, one that neither cared nor influenced mankind in any way. By his words, man was master of his own destiny.

We were the top species on the planet and look what we had achieved without any interference from some mythical being that nobody could say existed for certain. Science was the way forward, science and technology, not theology and magic.”

Garro sat back and gazed over Amons shoulder at some distant point that only he could see “Terra was a beautiful world once, oceans, seas, rivers, mountains, forests, animals that could not be found anywhere else” he sighed heavily and turned his gaze onto the Last Lion as Amon was rapidly becoming known. “We got so clever that we reverted back to petty warlords and nuclear war destroyed everything that was beautiful about Terra, everything that made her unique.”

He stretched a little and ran his hand over his bald head, it was then Amon saw the eagle engraved on his gauntlet. Garro followed his gaze and smiled a little,

“It is a symbol to remind me off my sworn Honour-Brother Saul Tarvitz of the Emperors Children” Garro’s brow creased a little “I do not know what has become of him yet, I can only hope that he is well and fighting against all that he detests and that Amon is why I cannot follow the Emperor. My company has the only few Terrans left in the Death Guard who opted to stay with Mortarion, the others returned to Terra not that there were many of us left in the first place.”

“It’s always the way isn’t it” Amon murmured.

“What is?”

“The Legions were incepted on Terra and yet some of them, after being reunited with their Primarchs suddenly started becoming more and more originating from their Primarchs adopted home worlds.

The rumours before all this crap started was that the Terran born Dark Angels was being sent to garrison Caliban and teach the new recruits. The Emperor was not concerned but Malcador was, he did not like the show of favouritism and believed that all sons wherever they hailed were equal to the other”

Garro shook his head “I could not see myself ever calling the Emperor a god, he had been so staunchly against it, he had burnt the last church himself, I was there when he had done it. He treated the old priest with respect but in the end the last church fell and that, he had said, was the end of the false religious empire.

Now all that he taught has gone out the window because he went into the Warp and came back enlightened and announced there were gods…oh and he was one of them. I can understand the Word Bearers suddenly flocking to his side at that announcement, after all it is all they have preached and it vindicated them since their re-joining with Lorgar but Dorn, Manus, Vulkan I cannot believe that Rogal Dorn of all Primarchs would fall for it…”

Amon scratched his stubble and sat forward “The Emperor chose those that would follow him without question and those that would follow him if they could get something in return. The Night Lords are the secret Police of the Imperium now, their brand of Justice is feared, the World Eaters are more like the Space Wolves were. There was no way that Russ was going to follow a god, but Angron would if it meant that he got to do what he wanted to do and prove his Sons martial prowess.

Vulkan did not want to follow a god, but something occurred between him, Angron and the Emperor, I do not know what as I was not there but Valdor was and it changed him. He had ordered us to follow the Emperor for we were his Lions. The personal guard of the master of mankind, when he returned from witnessing Vulkans conversion he drew me to one side and told me the only saviour for mankind now was Horus and Sanguinius, as well as those who refused to follow a living god.”

Garro raised his eyebrows and smirked but it was without humour “Have you heard the rumours? Gulliman is apparently trying to fortify Ultramar into an Imperium Secundous, Horus does not believe it will be any good having another empire when they are trying to save this one”

Amon shook his head “I heard there was an argument but I had no idea what it was about”

“I got that from the scuttlebutt flying around, how true it is I cannot say.”

Amon sighed a little “So you remained with Mortarion?”

“Mortarion is my gene-father I would follow him until my death”

Amon returned his gaze to the transcripts and a comfortable silence fell between them once more.

 

Silently Squad Bellicose made their way through the tunnel, each step was taken with care and one look at the wet moss covered stonework around them, a cave in could be inevitable. Even an Iron Warriors trained eye could tell that some stonework’s did not last forever. Obviously the original builders had, overtime forgotten about this hidden entrance, it might have been used to smuggle food in at times of siege warfare, or troops out. By the spider like cracks in the stone, this had not been used n sometime and probably had been forgotten about.

As they moved round the corner a bolter shell took Scout Jeranu off his feet and flying past the other marines until his head cracked against a wall leaving a blood smear trail as his body finally slid to the ground. Apothecary Usezen immediately crouched by the body and touched his neck. He looked at his Sergeant and shook his head. Lennax cursed and moved his men behind him. They had been lax; they had believed that none of the humans above them had remembered about this tunnel.

He motioned for two of his men to protect Usezen as he gathered the gene seed from the dead scout. Usezen glanced down at the scout and closed his eyes. It was the way of things, still too loose a little brother was still a blow to the chapter, the scouts were the future and sometimes even those that showed great promise faltered.

Lennax watched as Coronus removed a snake like cube from her belt and crouched down, she moved it until it just peeped round the corner and peered through it. Brother Augustrix moved next to her and motioned at the tube. She moved back and let him peer through it.

Coronus nodded as he looked to her for clarification of what he had seen and handed her the snake like camera back, he nodded his approval and turned to Lennax. “There are five Dark Angels, barricaded 250meters ahead of us.” He quietly spoke “They were waiting for us”

“They knew we would find the tunnel that is why it was so easy to get in. Bloody Caliban bastards I should have known that that the old Knights in them would check for such entrances. What is that you used sister?”

Coronus stared as Lennax addressed her in a more familial way and straightened her posture.

“It is a snake Camera my Lord, we use them when we are in Urban battle grounds where there is no countryside to use our more natural talents”

“Stick close by me” he whispered “I will have need of your talents, but for the moment remain here, we shall deal with the Dark Angels,”

“As you wish Lord…”

“Brother” Lennax corrected quickly “You can address me as brother little sister”

Coronus smiled a little “My name is Freada”

“And mine is Mattieus” He unhooked a smoke grenade from his belt, anything else would bring the walls down and they did not want that. “Mark your targets and your shots well brothers” He moved down the wall and rolled the grenade out, waiting until the smoke filled the area, ordering his squad to move to heat vision they moved round the corner firing at the heat signals ahead.

Two fell but the other three remained standing. The shots that had felled their brothers now turned on them. The smoke began to clear and almost immediately the Iron Warriors compensated. Brother Calen went down as his knee was shattered by a shot from one of the Dark Angels his visor identified as Sergeant Oslay.

He moved into a cover area and carried on firing, whispering the Iron Warrior Mantra as he did so. Brother Hendran took a shot through his neck then on through his visor that shattered his skull. Brother Artenena placed a well-aimed shot at the Dark Angel named as Brother Zendar.

Lennax and Artenena and Scout Yves charged the remaining two Dark Angels, Yves ducked out of the way as Brother Vanguaria unleashed a torrent of bolter fire in their direction. Incensed and still wanting revenge for the death of his friend, he threw his combat knife straight into Vanguaria’s neck and followed up with a shot to the temple.

Lennax moved him to one side, keyed his Chainsword and took the Dark Angel Sergeant’s head off with a swipe that cauterised the wound as it swept through. The blood soaked the very ground that they stood on and as the sound of Battle cleared Artenena shook his head, he had much of their fathers dire nature inside him and it showed on his face now.

Before he could say anything they heard the Reductor work its business on Brother Hendran, and he muttered the litany of the fallen. He also vowed revenge, Kolax Hendran had been his closest battle brother, and they had come up from the Scouts together. Lennax, knowing this told him to bring the body.

He told Yves to collect Jeranu and watched the scout do as he was told. That boy had earnt the carapace today that was for certain. He moved to where Calen was being treated by Usezen.

“How are you doing Johan?”

“I have another knee Mattieus. The good doctor has assured me I’ll be able to compensate for it.”

“I will see to it that the knee is replaced when we return to the Olympian Sun” Usezen stood up “but for the moment I suggest a moment’s rest Sergeant”

Lennax got to his feet and walked over to where Coronus was kneeling by the body of her protégé, by the ruin that was left of Terex’s chest. Looked like he had tried to watch what was going on and took a shot to the chest, A human body was not built to withstand the force of a bolter shell. His ribcage stuck up through the body like some ancient predator had torn into the meat.

Blood pulled around the body and the look on the dead young man’s face said it all, horror and fear mixed into one. He looked at Coronus who had her eyes closed and muttered something beyond even his hearing. He reached over and gently shut the eyes.

“Blood of a warrior Perturabo will know your name and honoured you will be”  
He went to carry the body but Coronus shook her head “It is an empty husk; his soul resides in our ancient forests as a guide to the younger generation. There is no use for his body now” She got to her feet and composed herself.

Lennax, always one to learn new things resolved to find out more about Coronus’ traditions. He walked with her to the others and handed her some  
rations. They would rest for a moment, gather supplies and bolter  
ammunition, even taking from the dead was not beyond him, they might need every piece of ammo they could get their hands on.

Coronus stopped eating as she heard something, it was like a groan, a deep seated groan and her head darted to the side wall as great cracks began to spiral out of control the bolter fire must have shaken the foundations, it was not the quietest of weapons.

“RUN” She yelled as masonry began to fall.

The remaining brothers and their scouts began to run, Usezen aiding Calen as behind them the tunnel collapsed in on itself, leaving their dead behind buried under the rubble. They emerged into a vast corridor as the sound of a tunnel collapse cascaded around them and finally settled throwing enough dust up into the air to coat the armour of the Iron Warriors in a fine coating and Coronus looked like a ghost by the time the rumbling had stopped.

The Iron Warriors were not superstitious, that was not even foremost in their minds, but they looked to the human with them and began to see her as a good luck charm, not that they would have voiced such a thing openly but even so, she was certainly having an effect on them and their morale had gone from being rock bottom having been used in constant siege warfare to high moral for finally being able to do what they had been born to do, and not just what they were skilled at doing.

Lennax pointed “That way” He growled and they walked north, knowing that the way out would be more hazardous than the way they came in.


	4. Chapter 4

Maragos lay the limb body of Ignatius Grulgor on the sanctified alter as Typhus directed. Orders had come through for them to join with the rest of the fleet. Typhus had already left orders to join the rest of the Death Guard fleet; he had also sent word to Erebus about the plans for a joint Iron Warrior/Death Guard Assault on a world loyal to the Emperor.

Right now there were other things to do. Maragos was not comfortable in here; he glanced at the small shrine to the Emperor and made the sign of the Aquila to ward off any evil that might be lurking about. Typhus looked at him with mild amusement.

“Superstitious are you Devlain?”

“Just wary if I am honest” Maragos replied “What are we doing Calas?”

“Patience brother, come kneel beside me, it is time for us to receive our lords blessing”

Both men felt the shift as the Terminus Est. entered the warp, The Eternal Scythe and Tempus Fugite alongside her. They bowed their heads and closed their eyes, waiting vigilante over the body of the second captain, they did not see what was happening outside in the warp.

 

The warp began to swirl violently making it impossible for the Navigators to see where they were going, it was, one crewman said, as if the warp suddenly took on a life of its own and seemed to stretch with no end.

Things of no real description began to pound the hulls of the ship and tendrils of energy began to encase each vessel, warping them into something other than what they had been, where the gun turrets were great bulbous masses appeared and as the warp energy wound its way through the Gellar fields weakest points the ships inside and out began to alter into something far more hideous than they should have been.

From the engineering decks humans screamed in terror as creatures of giant mass with gaping pestilent holes attacked, tearing them apart and taking some of the bodies for themselves. On other decks humans already going insane began to pull their eyes out of their sockets to stop them from seeing what was going on around them. Sickness and death then a rebirth followed all in that order.

The Astartes fared no better, even their famed resilience was no match for whatever this was, their legendary constitutions against all known diseases and infections was turning against them, the superhuman bodies would not allow them to die but instead rotted them eternally from the inside. Their agonised screams was something never heard of before.

Maragos stared as Grulgor began to wake, a twisted bloated version of his once handsome noble self, Maragos himself had begun to feel the effects of the warp, black slime fell from his mouth as his body warped with the same effects that was occurring to his brothers. Only Typhus seemed serene despite what was happening around him.

He was uttering loyalty to whatever was doing this and to save his brothers Maragos could do nothing but the same, he stared as a great bloated entity appeared before them. A body bloated with corruption and it exuded a sickly diseased stench. Its body was leathery but necrotic and green, the surface was pock marked with boils, sores and running pestilence. Maragos lay on the floor the pain racking his body as it altered and he saw the gods exposed guts, running with….things, he was loathe to think of demons, but that is how it seemed to him, even in his sickened mind he still saw demons.

“I will take this one” He motioned to Grulgor “I have plans for him my herald”

The voice was altogether liquidised and like the sound of a caring parent.

Typhus rose to his feet and helped Maragos, both men hideously altered beyond recognition. Typhus’s armour now encased his entire body and from within came the sound of buzzing.

“My host to the destroyer Hive” The voice gurgled again “My Herald spread my great works and my word, I have spared the mortals and warriors on these vessels, and they have known my caring nature”

“As your will grandfather” Typhus gripped his scythe.

The god took the figure of Grulgor “He will be returned, when I am done”

Maragos heard nothing over the vox and then, prayers, prayers to their deliverer but as he caught a glance at his transformed self he began to loathe Typhus for what he had done to gain power.

It was a hatred that would last the rest of his days, he remained in service to this plague god, but he would never again trust the man who had been his friend.

Outside the warp storm abated and the three vessels made their way through to real space but, what they were now would forever be the cause of nightmares to the worlds of man.

 

The Indomitable Will sat at high anchor around the planet Mandarax. Mortarion stood staring balefully at the planet below. He had brought this world into compliance, he had raised the Imperial standard himself and that of the Death Guard. He had left General Ofara; a veteran of many campaigns in charge, he and his Imperial Army Unit, the 24th Royal Grenadiers of the Usler Regiment had more than earnt their right to settle the world.

They had named it Mandarax, after an old hero from their world Usler Minors past. Mortarion had no reason to believe that Castus Ofara had turned against him, the last communique had been a plea for help, that forces loyal to the Emperor had turned against their own and so far all hails had been met with silence.

He waited, he would not prosecute this war alone, he was more than capable but, he had promised Perturabo a slice of the action and one did not go back on a promise to the Comrade. He watched as Iron Warrior ships translated into system and then stood straighter as the mighty Iron Blood came through.

He allowed a slight smile to cross his face, the biggest ship in the Iron Warriors fleet and when she arrived, you knew that Perturabo was here. He frowned a little as he glanced at the hololithc display wondering where his first, second and third captains were, their vessels were not in formation and despite the firepower of the Primarchs vessel and the Endurance, the fire power of the Terminus Est. would be required to add to it.

He would continue sending messages planet side, giving Perturabo a chance to ready himself and give Typhus, Grulgor and Maragos a chance to get here.

 

The Iron Warriors stepped back as the crowning glory in their arsenal made an appearance, The Death Incarnate, Jericho, Troi, and War Bringer all of them mighty Goth class Reaver Titans. Each equipped with a mix of Vulcan cannon, quake cannon, inferno gun, apocalypse missile launchers and large plasma cannon, all four of the Reavers took their places. The Imperial Army placed their ear defenders on and the Iron Warriors ensured that their armours audio compensators were ready.

Jasiera had not heard from squad Bellicose for several hours, but then again he had told them to maintain radio silence. He did not want anyone knowing they were there; still he could not escape the feeling that something had gone wrong.

He watched as the Drone vessels unleashed their payloads, although they were destroyed themselves in the process they did their job, the shielding around the centre of the Bastion crumbled under the bombardment and the Warsmith smiled grimly.

++Princeps Tynar, are you and your brothers ready? ++

++We are My Lord Warsmith, on your mark++

++Fire when ready, for the Primarch and the Warmaster++

++For the Omni….Primarch and the Warmaster++

Tynar caught himself, Jasiera did not blame him for that, since the bizarre events occurring not just on Terra but Mars too, many of the Legions that were loyal to the old order, found their Titans geared more to the Warmaster and had dropped the Omnissiah from their traditional salute.

The Warsmith did not know if the Omnissiah was truly a name for the Emperor or not but he would not chastise the Princeps for finding it difficult to reconcile the old with the new, it would take time.

He watched as the four Titans unleashed their payloads. There was a reason he had Reavers of the Goth class in his retinue, their weapons could bring an enemy’s walls down to nothing but rubble and they were doing just that.

He could imagine the panic behind the walls, the human warriors covering their ears as the mighty roar of the Titans armaments burst their ear drums, making them bleed and rendering them deaf for all eternity.

Jasiera was about to move to where his company waited when he saw them. Black armoured transhumans figures emerging from the shattered areas of the curtain wall where the Titans had broken through.

“Finally” he whispered to himself ++Brothers and sisters of Barania concern yourself with the human soldiers, brothers the Sons of the Lion have come to meet us, let’s not disappoint them, Iron within….++

++Iron Without++

++For the Primarch and the Warmaster++

He joined his company and with Isolder beside him the Iron Warriors went to meet the Dark Angels.

 

Amon and Garro stared at each other as they found what they had been looking for. It was minuet really and had they not been so diligent in their work, they would have missed it.

“No” Garro did not want to believe what he was reading,

“Transcripts do not lie Nathanial” Amon whispered.

“Could they have been doctored?”

“Bit difficult to doctor the Astropathic Choir I would have thought” Amon looked at him “Wouldn’t you?”

“Look how his last name has changed,” Garro rose from his seat and activated his personal vox ++father, I believe we have found the Traitor and I do not believe you are going to like it++

++I think we already know, come to the bridge both of you++

Garro straightened as he heard not the death whisper of his father, but the dark sombre voice of his uncle.

++At once My Lord++ Garro turned to Amon “Perturabos aboard and we are required on the bridge”

Amon rose from his seat and both men left the archive room.

They arrived on the bridge to see all faces watching the screen with varying degrees of horror and revulsion on their faces, even the Death Shroud, Mortarions bodyguard were unsettled by what they were seeing, their faces were hidden as always, but their body language spoke volumes.

Mortarions fists clenched and unclenched as he struggled to contain the rage that was building within him, and the only clue of Perturabos disbelief showed in a throbbing of the neck vein in his giant thick neck.

Garro could not believe what he was seeing, and Amon shook his head slowly. There on the screen three ships came slowly into view, the lead of them was the one that caused a horrific gasp to erupt from the human crew.

All three vessels seemed to be surrounded by some sort of swarm, and as Mortarion took in the sight he thought he saw swarm of flies almost whizzing round the vaunted vessel like children around their mother.

There were giant boils and blisters that covered the Terminus Est. and her sisters like great swathes of corrupted rotted moss, clinging to something that was dying but refused to give up life. As they drew closer, the ships looked too all intense and purposes that they had been aged several thousand years, permanent rusted batteries looked like they had fired their last salvo and nothing remained of the pristine vessels that they once been.  
Instead they all heaved with the putrid lodgers that now were their make-up.

“Get me Typhon” Mortarions voice was almost like a whisper but it was still heard throughout the bridge “I want to know what is going on”

“It seems My Lord, that Typhon is now calling himself Typhus and has been in league with Erebus since the schism began” Garro explained.

Before Mortarion could answer a face appeared on the screen and if any of the Astartes, Iron Warriors and Death Guard alike thought it was all a bad dream than they were given a rude awakening.

“Hello Father,” The First Captain chuckled “Ah, Uncle, you too are here to witness the glory that will be the resurrection of the Dusk Raiders”

“Calas what have you done?” Mortarion spluttered.

“What you father is too blinded to do” Typhus replied “What I alone could do”

As the diseased light of the bridge of the Terminus Est. fell fully upon the First Captain the changes wrought upon him became apparent. His once pristine terminator armour was now warped out of all recognition, no longer had the colour of the Death Guard but a sickly putrid green and, from the centre of his helm risen a single horn.

Great rents in his armour housed flies, bulbous flies that flew in and out of him, feasting on whatever disgustingness lay underneath. Perturabo heard a retching sound beside him and turned to see the helmswoman become violently sick, he motioned to one of the human officers who took her from her station and helped her off the bridge, and someone else replaced her.

“Eyes down sons and daughters of the bridge crew” He kindly ordered one which was gratefully complied upon.

“Father Uncle, join the Emperor, Horus cannot win this you shall all be cast adrift and history shall write you as the traitors”

“I will have your head Typhon” Mortarion raged,

“I think not”

“My lords, Vessels of the Imperial Fists have just translated in system” The Admiral looked up “It’s a trap”

“I will return to my vessel brother”

“Amon, go with Perturabo” Mortarion insisted and glared at the mocking visage of his former First Captain “I shall deal with that traitor scum”

 

Jasiera plied into the Dark Angel warriors, unheeding nor caring, all he concerned himself with was upholding the true Imperial Truth, the real way of things and as his brothers followed suit he knew that whatever became of this day, they had done their duty.

Inside the citadel another battle raged. Squad Bellicose had emerged into the main compound and set upon the terrified humans that were mustering to man the falling walls. The Iron Warriors had no time to offer their usual terms of surrender that was no longer an issue, this was not a world that was to be newly compliant, and this was a world that was allying itself with false gods and foul practices.

Coronus took the head off a Commissar and immediately followed that with a shot to the company Sergeants’ head. Lennax ordered two of his men to flank the human scout, she would survive and she would stay within their squad that he had told himself.

He roared his own bloodlust, his choler and humours were up, ordering his men to wipe out every last one of them he made for the main doors of the compound when a giant shadow covered him, he looked up into the face of the Chaplain – Redemptor of the Dark Angels and rolled to one side as the Crozius missed his head by inches.

Kerasa snarled like a caged beast and moved round once more, incensed that Brother Sergeant Oslay and his squad had not returned, and with the cursed Olympians here it could only mean one thing, they had been killed. Precious Calibanite blood spilt by moody dull heathens, they would pay.

Lennax rolled again as once more the Crozius came down, but this time not fast enough to avoid a glancing blow against his arm. He bit back the cry as the power field around the Crozius broke his forearm.

“In the name of the Holy Emperor you will die Heretic!”

Lennax gritted his teeth as the Laramen cells went to work, until they had done their job his arm would be useless to him, he hauled himself to his feet only to be kicked face forwards into the dirt and kicked onto his back.

“You should remain in the dirt where the Emperor commanded, leave the mighty Lord Dorn to do what your childish father cannot”

Lennax gripped his chainsword as Kerasa continued his taunting, opening up the old wound and the old rivalry again. He blocked out all the sounds around him, the screams of the dying and the teeth grating sound of chainsword against ceramite. All he focused on was the skull faced visage of the Chaplain-Redemptor.

“Iron Within….” He snarled as he pushed the Chainsword up through the Dark Angels chins splattering blood, bone, meat and brain over himself and the concrete below him.

Kerasa danced like a possessed puppet as the teeth ploughed through his skull and erupted from the top of his head in a sanguine gush. Lennax got to his feet as he pulled his weapon free.

“Iron Without”

Fist of Dorn began its spiral downward as the Fires of Olympia sent her to her fiery demise with three broadsides. As Captain Ingara watched emotionless from his throne the Imperial Fists battle barge turned upside and headed down towards the planet below them, whatever the Torpedo’s had not done, gravity would do the rest. He did not say anything to commend the dead souls, they did not deserve it.

Hammer of Perturabo took down the Imperial Fists fighters before the Inwit blew out her engines leaving her dead in the water, the fires that raged in the engine rooms were quickly contained, but a secondary blast unleashed something more than fire. Beasts from the warp, things that were red and looked to all intense and purposes were like vicious attack dogs took the screaming crews down one by one. The Iron Warriors of the Hammer of Perturabo rushed to the Engine rooms to combat whatever had come aboard their vessel.

Sergeant Garrex halted as the abominations came towards him, behind them a Librarian wearing the colours of the Imperial Fists seemed to be guiding them and it appeared that the Edict of Nikea was no more on their side too.

The hounds, if that is what they were, measured about eight feet long from nose to tail with lean wiry bodies and arched backs, they were covered in blood red scales with huge collars that looked like a great circle of spines connected to an orange red membrane and rows of iron plates that were driven into their flesh along their backs. The iron plates were held in place by rivets shaped in a sigil that hurt the Sergeants eyes to look at too long, he had no idea what it was that had sent these things, but by the Iron Lords will he was going to kick them off his Captains vessel.

One of them came at him, its milky orbs reminded him of a sharks eyes at the moment of attack, it huge razor sharp fangs made to clamp around his arm and shook it making him drop his bolter. He lifted his arm and powered his power fist, as the two toed razor sharp claws tore at his chest plate cutting through it like a knife through butter. He grunted at the weight of the thing and with a swipe more out of desperation than any real discipline swung his power fist up and under and through the flesh.

The hound jerked a little and then fell dissipating back into the warp where it came from. His brothers had not fared so well three of them were dead, their chests exposed to the air and their gene-seed gone forever, eaten or tainted. Sergeant Yentoz came up behind the stricken squad and ordered flamers. Within moments the area was blanketed in hot flames and the strange hounds were gone leaving the Imperial Fist to deal with.

Garrex rose to his full height and ordered the remainder of his team to fall back and protect the rest of the ship and its crew. As Yentoz got the remaining humans out with his squad and what was left of Garrex’s squad he saw his friend go toe to toe with the Librarian. He closed his eyes as his friend had his armour sloughed off him and his skin revealing musculature, veins and blood but still the dying stricken Sergeant carried on fighting and with his dying hand grasped a Krak grenade and pulled the pin, the Iron Warriors mantra on his lips and stuffed it into the mouth of the chanting Librarian. Yentoz closed the blast doors as his friend and the Fist were blown into atoms.

 

The Iron Blood roared through the smaller vessels of the Imperial Fists, sending them into their deaths with the vengeance that only a Primarch could deliver.

“My Lord Perturabo” The human vox officer called with urgency “We have boarding torpedoes on decks 9 through 15”

“Take the Throne Master Ingles” Perturabo growled and grabbed his hammer ++Forrix, meet me with your Terminators, we are going to teach the golden boys how not to piss me off++

++ On my way father ++

He glanced at Amon and motioned with his head “Come Brother Lion”

Amon gripped his weapon and followed the Lord of Iron.

As the Iron Warriors across the battlefield fought their cousins a powerful voice came across their vox networks. As he strode through the deck of his ship, his hammer breaking ceramite, crashing skulls and pulping bone and meat he began to chant,

++From Iron cometh strength++

++From Strength cometh will++ the voices of thousands of Iron Warriors came back.

Perturabo punched his fist through the chest plate of a company champion of the Imperial Fists, his Custode companion, First Captain and Iron Guard taking out other intruders as they came into the Imperial Army mess hall.

++From will cometh faith++ Perturabo continued as he and his retinue continued cutting their bloody swathe through the Imperial Fist lines. Two of First Company went down their heads obliterated into bone and blood; their deaths incensed the mighty Primarch further.

++From faith cometh honour++ still the Iron Warriors chanted their unbreakable litany drawing strength from the words their father had spoken since the dawn of his joining.

++From honour cometh iron++

As one the vox nets came alive ++this is the unbreakable litany, and may it be forever so++

++Get these bastard sons of a bastard Primarch off my ships my sons++ Perturabo raged.

It was one thing to see an Astartes rage, that in itself was a terrible sight but, to see a Primarch rage was something different entirely. His head long shaved, coils laid like dreadlocks over his skull, the light from his gorget bathing his skin in a burning rage and his cold blue eyes filled with hate.

He was the Siege Master, the Comrade, the Lord of Iron, Deliverer of Tyrants, Lord of Olympia, he was the Iron Warrior and he would be damned if his misguided corrupted Nephews were going to take his ships, even if it meant the spilling of sacred Olympian blood, not one of his sons would shirk in their duties.

Amon glanced ahead and moved before the Primarch, moving his shield before him as bolter fire blanketed the area, Perturabo stared as the Custode took the fire and opening up his guardian spear returned fire, a catharsis, a cleansing, feeling the need to be a warrior with use again.

“This is for the people of Alyce Springs, Constantin Valdor and Malcador” He growled.

Forrix stared as he saw the power of the guardian spear unleashed, and it was a sight to see. Yellow armour seemed to burst apart at each strike, using the shield he had picked up along the way as a body guard the Custode moved with a speed that belied his bulk.

Amon threw the shield and Forrix, Kroeger and Barban Folk, the Primarchs Triach watched as the shield span like a giant discus, knocking Astartes to their backs enabling the Iron Guard and the other Astartes to move in and sweep up.

Perturabo rested a hand on Amons shoulder, he said nothing, but nothing needed to be said, Amon nodded and let the Primarch lead the way once more.

 

Mortarion had already seen three of his ships destroyed by what had once been the vaunted Terminus Est. The Eisenstein, a frigate had started the run but was shot down by….well the death lord did not know what but they were not the torpedoes he knew off by heart, they were something else.

The Infantry of Death had been next destroyed by the Eternal Scythe and the Hand of Barbarus…well he did not know what had happened on there, all he saw was boarding torpedoes from the Tempus Fugit slam into the old cruiser and the screams thereafter were sounds that would remain with him.  
He ordered the Indomitable Will to rendezvous with the Endurance, Mortarion turned to Garro.

“Get the Seventh ready Nathanial….we will take that traitor on,”

“Father….”

Mortarion cut him off with a curt expression before he could finish. “I will lead and my Battle-Captain will accompany me with his company, is that understood?”

Garro bowed his head and started ordering his company to stand ready, although he did not say who would be accompanying them, the Troublesome Seventh would have another battle honour to add to the many already obtained.

Mortarion grabbed his manreaper “I will have your head Typhus, or whatever you are calling yourself, I will take you apart piece by piece for this stain on my honour”

One of the Deathshroud turned to face his master but Mortarion said no more, he was planning.

 

The Iron Warriors ploughed onward across the now slick battlefield, the remaining guns from the Citadel covered the Dark Angels and the defenders, but for every human warrior that fell on the side of the attackers, double their number fell on the opposite side, Venerable Brother Isolder and his brothers Junas, Lorix, Kanos and Temeracles ensuring that the attackers fell under their cannon fire.

Isolder swivelled as he saw a Dark Angels Dreadnought cut down several brother Iron Warriors and destroy a Rhino. The humans tumbling from the wreckage screaming as fire consumed their bodies. He swung his auto-cannon round.

“Ragnarax” He boomed making the Dark Angel stop and what sounded like a deep booming laugh erupted from his speakers.

Jasiera froze as he heard the name of the once honour brother of Isolder, the two men had been warriors of heart and now they were fighting against each other, where once they would have fought together.

++This is not how it was meant to be my honour brother++ Isolder voxed.

++Save your words Heretic, the Emperor is all that is correct with the universe, you and yours chose to ignore his call++

++You call this right with the universe? This is madness Ragnarax++

++The Emperor has been chosen, we are ordained to follow him, and those who do follow him will have eternal glory, those who do not have eternal death++

Isolder made a gesture that looked like a shoulder shrug and without another word unleashed the full force of his auto-cannon. Ragnarax staggered back and fired his melta-cannon straight into Isolders sarcophagus instantly frying the remains of the warrior within.

Jasiera screamed out a roar of denial as his old Warsmith and friend toppled backwards and did not move again, the ruined shell all that was left of the great Warsmith. As if echoing their Warsmiths grief, the remaining Dreadnoughts opened fire, they bathed the area with their cannons and melta guns, Ragnarax exploded in a hail of fire and as his ammunition cooked off the resulting fireball took out several Dark Angels around him.

He was consumed by rage, Jasiera blanked out the battle around him, he could not hear the dying guardsmen and women, and he could not hear the sounds of bolter, melta and plasma fire of his brothers. He could not hear the sound of the Reductors as they did their grisly work all he could see was the object of his hate, the Captain of the Dark Angels, those cousins who had turned his world upside down.

He shot, cut and decapitated his way through to where Alejandra stood, his pristine armour looking more like it had been painted in blood and gore than the colours of his beloved Iron Warriors.

“Come traitor” Alejandra spoke although the vox grill distorted the Calibanite accent into something not quite human or Astartes for that matter. “I will restore the honour of my father”

“Your fathers’ honour was destroyed when he took the side of the mad Emperor and his allies and tried to dishonour my father” Jasiera snarled, his power sword dripping with gore.

“Everyone knows that the Iron Warriors are nothing more than a squabbling band of children with their own agendas” Alejandra jeered “They forsook unity for their own agenda’s, they should have taken the hand given to them, always on the outside looking in”

Jasiera had heard enough. Yes there were brothers within his Legion who wanted their own agendas to the fore, it was the product of years of living under the Tyrant of Olympia, Perturabos adopted father, paranoia bred dissent but sometimes it worked, Perturabo encouraged such things as it showed him who was born to lead and who was wrought to follow.

He removed his helm and clipped it to his belt, showing his handsome features to the enemy, this would be his battle, maybe his final battle but what a glorious battle it was, the Iron Warriors no longer just the Emperors trench dogs, they were finally released to do more than what had dragged their morale down, fed their bitterness and feelings of being nothing more than second to the glory boys of Dorn.

This battle alone had proved their worth as more than trenched out garrison forces. He leapt to meet the Dark Angel and battle was joined. There was something about the Dark Angel that was not right, there was an aura about him that made Jasiera feel sick to his transhuman stomach.

He gritted his teeth and fought against the nausea, he was an Astartes, a true Astartes and this was nothing but witchcraft. He caught the fist that came his way and butted his head against the Dark Angels own helm cracking it.

Alejandra staggered back and in frustration removed his helm, but what was revealed caused Jasiera to stagger back himself in horror. He had seen many Dark Angels in his three centuries of being an Astartes. They all had that noble Knightly countenance of their father but this…before him the face had been warped into something less than human. Two horns had begun to sprout from the centre of the Dark Angels forehead. His nose and top lip were fusing together and his eyes were gone instead a long strip of flesh sat over where his eyes had been and a single red line seemed to move across the length backwards and forwards.

So shocked was he that he did not see the punch that knocked him backwards, followed by a great strength against his arm, stronger than any Astartes. He brought his bolter up but not before his forearm was torn off. He yelled in pain and fired off three rounds.

Alejandra fell to his knees as Jasiera got to his feet, his laramen cells already clotting the blood; he aimed his bolter at the Dark Angels head but was picked up and flung back into the slickening mud. The shots that he had fired at Alejandra had simply been pushed out and no wounds were apparent.  
Pushing himself back he looked around for something more than what he had, he screamed out as Alejandra ripped his left leg off, and tossed it aside like it was nothing, he was being torn apart piece by piece and the gurgle that came from that things mouth might have been a laugh. His fingers closed around a flamer, hefting it up and using the stump of his right arm to balance he spat the acidic blood to one side.

“Do you think that is going to save you heretic scum?”

“Take a look in the fucking mirror you bastard” Jasiera breathed and fired.

“WARSMITH!”

Unseles ran with the remnants of his squad taking his cloak he wrapped it around his Warsmith and put out the flames that were trying to consume him. The sound he heard from the Dark Angel Captain made him look up in horror.

“Get rid of it!” He snarled and his team finished the Dark Angel.

Apothecary Resalan knelt by the Warsmith and touched his neck “By the Iron Lord he is still alive.”

Unseles bowed his head relieved that his Warsmith was still alive, but with half his body gone there would be one place for him. To continue his service, his body slipped into the Sus-an sleep.

++Princeps Tynar++

++Brother Sergeant++

Unseles stood over the warped body of the Dark Angels Captain and kicked it in disgust ++Bring those walls down in its entirety++

++Yes Brother Sergeant++

He watched as the Reavers fired as one and the walls came crumbling down.

Sergeant Lennax gathered his squad together and looked around ++Where is Freda? ++

The Brothers started as they realised their good luck charm was not with them, Brothers Augustrix and Artenena moved off firing as they went looking for their little sister. They moved fast, dodging the falling walls and towers of the citadel now in its death throes as the Reavers and the guns of the artillery barrage below started hammering the final nails in the coffin.

Augustrix stopped where he was and sank to his knees as he found her. Her chest had been splayed open, exposing her insides and she had been crucified against the walls. Artenena relayed the news to their brothers and rested a hand on Augustrixs’ shoulder just as her eyes flickered open.

She gurgled something and as Artenena leant forward to listen he closed his eyes and clenched his fists.

“I-Iron within, I-Iron without” she gargled and then fell silent.

“Help me get her down” He whispered to Augustrix and the two Astartes took her down from the walls. They looked as Lennax joined them and taking his cloak he wrapped her up in it and took her in his arms.

Recalling the words he heard her whisper over her dead kinsman, he spoke them aloud and repeated them so that as they exited the shattered citadel his brothers were speaking the same words.

Behind them the Citadel finally gave up its struggles’ and fell, thousands of tonnes of concrete and masonry crashed to the floor with the sound of ferocious thunder and the ground shook as the foundations, unable to take the stresses and strains of the barrage began to crack, opening the earth into giant tendrils of cavernous holes.

The Iron Warriors retreated, collecting their dead and wounded brothers as they went. The order rang round and all the warriors, human and Astartes ran back to the first trench line as Dark Angels were swallowed up by the angry earth.

Finally there was quiet and it was an eerie quiet. Lennax was approached by Sergeant Ingles of the Baranian guard. The Sergeant removed something from his belt as did all his brothers, a small token but on the front was engraved the head of Perturabo and on the back their company colours.

“I know that she is a husk now Sergeant and that her soul resides within the forests of your world, but she is to be interned with honour aboard our vessel and these are to be placed with her, is that understood?”

“Yes My Lords” Ingles took Coronous’s body reverently, the honour done to her obvious of how the Astartes thought of her. “My Lords, we are to return to the ship but the Warsmith is badly injured, all Iron Warriors are being called to the command tent to await further instructions”

Lennax nodded his thanks and with a formal final salute to their good luck charm they turned about and strode to where the Iron Warriors were mustering, it had been a victory but a victory that had come at a price for the Iron Warriors as well as the Humans, but of the Dark Angels there was nothing left.

It was decided that this world would be bombarded from orbit, especially after what had been seen when several Dark Angels appeared to be altered by the Warp. No one wanted to be responsible for a civilisation to be here centuries later and be tainted once more by whatever malady had affected the Dark Angels.

Warsmith Jasiera was interned within the Dreadnought that had once been Isolder, his sarcophagus engraved with his victories and his honours but he was left asleep. He would be called again once he had bonded with the Dreadnoughts inner workings himself.

When they were re-joined with their father they would choose a new Warsmith, but for the moment, Captain Kensar took over as interim Warsmith. On the 12th Deck of the Olympian Sun, there was an area given to the Imperial Army to inter their dead if they were unable to bury them on the world that had been brought into compliance. Lennax stopped and read the wall of the fallen, strange he had never bothered with this area of the ship before. The only dead that he had concerned himself with before now was Iron Warrior dead.

There had been many over the years and the entirety of Deck 9 was given to the internment of the dead sons of Olympia. He wore his robes, his armour in the hands of his armourer to be repaired. He had watched Kafados burn in the fires of Cyclonic bombs. Now he stood reading the long roll of the dead Imperial Army regiment that was attached to them, he saw the numbers beside the names and made his way to where a Stone tablet covered the casket that held her remains.

Something about her had touched Lennax and he was not sure what it was, he doubted he would ever understand what it was, but her dying words as relayed to him by Artenena had sealed her place within the hearts of Squad Bellicose, in fact once he had spoken to Captain Kensar and he had allowed her name to be placed as a honouree sister to the 123rd Company.

He rested his hand against her name stone and spoke the words he had spent the last couple of hours learning in her native language. When he was finished he stepped back, saluted her and bowed his head to the wall of the fallen and walked away.


	5. Chapter 5

Interlude

The smoke rose shaking from the man’s tabac stick that was being held a little too tightly, he did not like what was happening to him, he had been at home, minding his own business, not bothering a soul. No one knew his origins, where he had come from; all they knew was that he was an artist, nothing more nothing less.

He had come to Gamma Erdoi Alpha Minor to live a life of non-consequence, occasionally drawing for the children of the town he resided in but no more than that, he could not afford to do more than that, but they had found him.

Found him and took him to their ship in the middle of the night, but then the night is what suited them the best. Now he was sat here, in a darkened room alone, told to wait and not move.

He had been given food, water and when he asked one of the grim giants for a smoke, he had been given some by the black clad army man that now stood in the corner of the room, he had tried to strike up conversation but the other man was not talking, except to say “Be quiet”

Was he a prisoner? He thought he probably was and once again cursed his fates that had brought him to this place in time.

Suddenly the door swung open and without pause or thought he took one look at the sharpened teeth that glinted in the darkness and wept. The guard was dismissed and the giant stepped into the meagre light that was afforded the weeping human.

The giant was pale skinned, dark eyed with long dark hair, his armour a midnight blue with many adornments upon it, his skull painted helm hung at his belt. Light seemed to bend itself around him and then scurry away as if the mere touch of the man scared it to death.

And then again who would not be scared of the master of terror and fear himself. The Lord of the Night, Prince of Crows, King of Nostramo Quintus, The Black Prince these and a thousand other titles had been given to the Primarch that stood before him and as the giant neared him, he felt his bowels and his bladder loosen and was unmanned in the most humiliating way possible.

“I have come for you Gavan Polarick” The voice was quiet, almost a whisper but a whisper from the deepest depths of mankind’s terror and fear. Then again that is what he did best.

“I-I did what was asked of me” Polarick squeaked.

“Yes, I know but we are going back”

“Going back where?”

“Do not toy with me, you must have known this day would come, we are going back to where it happened, and you are coming with me”

“P-please L-Lord I do not….”

The face, pale and almost ghostlike in its intensity moved down and in, the lips parting to show his filed teeth once more. He said nothing and yet the gesture was clear. Polarick lowered his head in defeat.

“Very well”

Konrad Curze smiled despite himself and stood to his full height he turned and walked out the room, telling the guard to transfer their guest to better quarters and to get him cleaned up, all his belongings were to be brought to the surface and left in his quarters.

Polarick put his head in his hands and wept once more.


	6. Chapter 6

Amon found himself with the Iron Lord and his Iron Circle; the Triach had been separated during the fighting that would end the Imperial Fists presence on the Comrades vessel. Already he had despatched several Imperial Fists saving Perturabos life several times, not that a Primarch needed saving really, it was more ingrained training and natural reactions that had caused him to act the way he did.

After all he had been raised above human; gene wrought to protect the most powerful human in the universe, protecting his son was merely an extension of that duty in Amons mind. He raised his guardian spear and, having been given command of Sergeant Idolas’s squad when the veteran fell in the last skirmish he moved his hand in signals that told the Astartes of Squad Ironheart where to deploy.

The Astartes moved without complaint, if there were any misgivings or dislike of the situation they now found themselves in, they kept their opinions to themselves. They were with their Primarch and if he told them to obey a Custode, displaced or not, then that is what they did.

Perturabo had moved to the other side of the vast metal doors and they could hear the sounds of bolter-fire, they had found them. He glanced at Amon, nodded and together Primarch and Custode burst into the room with their Astartes behind them.

The Imperial Fists numbered forty maybe fifty, and they could see the carnage the sons of Dorn had committed on the Iron Warriors capital vessel. Engineers lay dead, either shot by the accompanying Imperial Army of the Inwit 24th Rifles or torn into pieces by Astartes weapons. Tech Priests lay dead or in pieces at the feet of the heart of the Iron Blood.

Iron Warriors battled bitterly with their cousins, the old rivalry out in force, this was not siege warfare, and this was all out bloody conflict. Amons hair stood on end as he despatched an Imperial Fist coming at him with a blow from his guardian spear and turning he was encased in eldritch fire.

The Librarian behind him smiled a little and his voice entered Amons head unbidden and unwanted.

Shall we see what Malcador left in there Custode Traitor?

Librarian Hafalgnar closed his eyes and began to reach into the defences that surrounded Amons psyche.

Amon moved to his knees, the invasion in his head was horrendous, the only man he had ever let into his mind was Malcador and no other, not even the Emperor had violated his private thoughts and memories.

Ah she was a pretty thing Amon; I am surprised you left her to become a Lion

The voice of the Librarian sneered. Amon roared like his nickname and tried to shut out the distant memories, memories that lay buried for decades within his strict mind of duty and honour. Unlike some Astartes he did no forget who he was, the Astartes conditioning meant that after time memories of their childhoods faded to be replaced with the history of their Legion and their Primarchs.

Not so the Custodes, they did not have the same conditioning as Astartes for they were not meant for conquest, they had one duty and one duty only, protect the Emperor and Terra. Now that was gone from him and despair began to settle on his shoulders. The more Hafalgnar tore through his memories the more he began to regret about things he had not thought of in decades.

His parents, siblings, a lover…he banged his fist on the ground and the taunting voice told him to let it go, let the burden he carry go and he would be free.

Amons eyes began to roll back in his head when suddenly he was free, his mind had been freed and beside him stood Brother Ryax, a former Librarian who had done as was instructed after Nikea, a sword the focus of his power sat in his hand and Amon felt himself pulled away but two sets of strong arms.

Ryax unleashed the full fury of his powers and engaged the son of Dorn in a psychic battle

++Amon can you hear me brother? ++

Forrix knelt down, having entered the battle in time to see the Last Lion brought to his knees by the Psyker.

Blood trickled from his ears and his nose and as he raised his head, he heard Ryax shout something to his brothers, instantly bolter fire ended the life of the Imperial Fist. The last thing he saw was Perturabo coming towards him, then darkness began to descend and the rest of the battle was lost to oblivion as Amon fell into unconsciousness but his last thought was that the First Captain had called him brother.

 

The Death Guard were faring no better than the Imperial Fists, but what made it worse was that it was their own brothers they were fighting, Several boarding missions that broke into the Eternal Scythe were met with horror and death at what their brothers had become.

Captain Icarus of the Fifth Company could scarcely believe his eyes as he saw the misshapen humans and the altered Astartes coming at them. He had already ordered his men to over their grills, but still the disease ridden enemy found their way through. His father had told him to destroy the vessel to do what must be done to make sure the abominations did not escape.

He was grateful that none of the Imperial Army had come with them; he did not want to have to deal with unbalanced humans as well as shocked Astartes. He split his teams off and told the Apothecaries not to collect the gene-seed, and not even from their own dead; heaven alone knew what would happen to that if it got back to the Legion and implanted into the next generation.

He and his men made their way to the bridge, as many as Icarus cut down he lost as many in his own men but, reminding himself of the Primarchs words he used them as his own mantra. They didn’t have a battle cry, well the seventh did but they were with the Primarch, but he recalled the words Mortarion spoke when reunited with his company and spoke them aloud, his men following his lead.

++We are his unbroken blades; we are the Death Guard++

By the time they got to the bridge they were all shouting it at the tops of their voices, as if the words of their father gave them strength beyond strength to defeat whatever this nonsense was. However the words died in their throats when they saw what awaited them.

On the floor of the bridge the rotting corpse of Mistress Agnetha, the human commander of the Eternal Scythe was nothing more than a weeping mess of flesh, the stench that came from her and indeed the rest of this once vaunted vessel was overpowering, even to an Astartes. Icarus took in the scene before him, whatever deal the bastard Typhon had struck was certainly working its foul magic’s. He and his men moved through the doors onto the bridge proper and swept their weapons in continuous motion, their visors picking out the dead and barely alive.

They were also alerted to the high toxin and contagion levels in this room; soon it would be overwhelming for even their famed resilience. Icarus heard something and span round, his warning trailing off as a giant horned stinking Astartes rose from seemingly nowhere. The runes on his visor identified the - thing for there was no other description he could find to suit it, as former Second Captain Ignatius Grulgor, The Commander.

“Impossible” Icarus whispered to himself

“Ah my dear Hadrian Icarus, tell me brother how do you like my new look?”  
Grulgor, or whatever it was, gurgled with a sound that was akin to the sound of vomit.

“What by Mortarion balls have you done to yourself?” Icarus asked, his shock hidden behind his helm, but his vox grill barely kept it from registering fully.

His eyes roved up and down the once Astartes and he pulled a face as he saw the sores that continuously wept stinking puss down his body. Boils came to the fore and then burst splattering their sickly yellow contents onto the floor, adding to the filth of human excrement and other bodily fluids.  
His brothers circled around him each of them as shocked as their Captain to see the remains of The Commander.

++Sir, is that really…the Commander? ++

A newly elevated brother by the name of Charon asked across private vox.

++Focus brother++ Icarus told him ++whatever it is, whoever it is….will die++

Around Grulgor other members of his company rose up, all in varying states of decay and yet forever immortal. Icarus suddenly had no wish to find out what this plague or whatever it was would do to an Immortal Astartes, they were Death Guard, but judging by his former brothers appearance, that was quite literal.

“Oh come Icarus this is the future, we are the Death Guard no more, we are the Dusk Raiders,”

“Ironic isn’t it Grulgor” Icarus readied his bolter and around him forty battle brothers did the same “You take the old Terran name for our Legion, and yet you hated our Terran brothers”

++Captain we are in the engine room I have lost half my squad and that was after having to kill them twice++

Icarus heaved a sigh, it was time to put this resistance of his to the test

++Serack old friend, get everyone out, hopefully I will see you again my brother but if not, then remember me well,++

++I am not leaving you Captain++ Serack affirmed

++Yes you are, set the charges and get the hell out of here, because if what is on this ship escapes, then we are all doomed, including father…NOW GO++

He shut off the vox and with the Primarchs words on his lips he and his brothers opened fire…

 

Mortarion exited the boarding torpedo to much the same sight that had been reported from the other boarding companies, Galacias Yvesnena, one of the Sevenths newest members had informed him that some heavy casualties were being reported on the Eternal Scythe and, that the Captain had ordered a retreat whilst he fought something that was claiming to be Second Captain Commander Grulgor.

When Mortarion had asked him to elaborate on what he meant by claiming, the younger Astartes could not give him a proper answer, Mortarion had clasped his hand on the new additions shoulder and told him not to worry, they would get their answer soon and they had, as they made their way from their exit point Yvesnena was dragged by former first company terminators into darkness and his screams would haunt the Primarch ever since.

Garro joined the Deathshroud in protecting their father, he wished he knew who they were, but that was impossible, no one knew who the Death Shroud were, just that they were former brothers who were un named and when called to service would answer to the Primarch alone and, forget who and what they once were.

He didn’t realise that they were brothers believed deceased. Some things were not meant for the ears of others, every Primarch had their own bodyguard, Perturabo had the Iron Circle, cybernetic warriors programmed to be utterly loyal to him, Horus had the Justerian and the Mournival, one guarding the body, and the other the mind, Sanguinius had the Sanguinary Guard and so on and so forth. Mortarion had the Deathshroud, but he wanted them distant from their brothers, to do their job effectively and as such he chose them.

Right now, one moved in front of him and the other behind him. Garro felt like he was part of something more than he had already been, in that moment he felt closer than ever to his Primarch. He relayed his orders to the Seventh, he smiled grimly at the nickname given them, the Troublesome Seventh, well that’s exactly what they would be and he for one wanted to plant a bolter round deep within the First Captain.

He did not want to believe that Calas Typhon would turn against his brothers like that, make some heretical pact with something that could reduce this once glorious battleship of the Death Guard, a ship with a history befitting her status as a capital ship, the Primarch had the Indomitable Will, Typhon was given this lady. He ran a gauntlet along a section of bulkhead and it flaked away in his hand and between his fingers.

++Be careful my son++ Mortarions voice came across his vox ++We do not know the parameters of this…plague for want of a better word, even touching her might pass on whatever malady has affected Typhon++

++Yes my Lord, my apologies++

Mortarion nodded and breathed in the air of his adopted home world ++you are thinking the same as me, aren’t you Nathanial? ++

The Primarch now spoke over their private vox, maybe he needed to hear his own thoughts vindicated.

++I was wondering My Lord, how long Calas has been in league with…whatever this is++

++My thoughts exactly my Battle-Captain. Indulge me a moment, did the Emperor ever speak of what lived in the Warp to you when you warred beside him during the Unification Wars? ++

Garro was silent for a moment, scanning his memory for those days and shook his head, not the Emperor but someone else had.

++There was a brother of the Imperial Heralds, those of Lorgars Gene seed who would become the Word Bearers. His name was Articas Savalios, he had been with us when the Emperor burnt the last church, and he had listened to the old priest that came from the church. ++

Garro paused and looked around him and realised that Mortarion was waiting for him to continue, he did another sweep, wary as to why they had so far met only one attack that had claimed the life of the young Death Guard. When he was certain the way was clear, he continued.

++He told me that there were beings in the warp, one, he said, was all the rage and fury of mankind. Its bloodlust personified that sits atop a great brass throne surrounded by the skulls of the dead and set between rivers of blood.

The second, he told me was like a giant feathered serpent, once seen by the people of Chin and Nippon as much protector and luck as well as destroyer, his feathers were an array of colours forever changing, always shifting and never in the same way. This, he told me was the master of magic and fate, the doorway to which every possible future is played like pieces on a chess board.

The Third was a bloated creature of death and decay, plague and pestilence. In him, he had said is the only path humanity can know, for death and decay go hand in hand he said, where there is plague there is death, where there is pestilence there is decay.

The last one he said was younger than the above, born from the decadence and hedonism of the Eldar and whilst it is their greatest foe whose name they will not utter, for mankind, he said it lures them in with promises of power and all manners of emotions that humans restrict themselves from feelings. This one, he said was more unpredictable as its whims changed with its moods. He did not name them for he did not know their names and in truth he did not want to know them, but he said they were waiting, waiting for us to reach the stars once more where they could work on us and engulf the universe in their glory++

++Did you believe him? ++

++I passed it off as a theological discussion on what humans used to believe haunted their nightmares, with the descriptions he gave I could truly believe why the early civilisations felt the need for a powerful entity to protect them.++

++What happened to the Herald? ++

++I believe he is a Dreadnought now father, Lorgar did not want to lose such a keen intellect and when the Word Bearers began their part of the great crusade he made Savalios a Chaplain and one of the first at that. I do not know exactly what happened to him but I know that he was interned in a Dreadnought, if he lives now I do not know++

++What do you believe now? ++

++I believe that maybe Articas was right all along++

Mortarion raised his Lantern and his Manreaper ++I think I am inclined to agree with you Battle-Captain++ Mortarion fell silent and cocked his head a moment, as if listening for something. Then he stood still and told those of the Seventh that were with him to stand fast.

The floor of the deck they were on began to shudder and tremble; Mortarion looked to the ground and slowly raised his head to see the Terminators of First Company stand before them.

“Do you not kneel before your Primarch?” he snarled “or has that dog Typhon turned you all insane….”

His voice trailed as he saw in the now rising light what exactly he was looking at, the Terminators were, like all the reports he was getting, mutated into something resembling what Garro had just been discussing.

He shook his head as he took in the ravaged forms of his once mighty sons, the pinnacle of their brothers, First Company, whom he had fought alongside in battle with honour and pride more times than he could count. His heart wept to see how this curse had stolen everything noble about them.

“I said KNEEL!” Mortarion roared. His anger, usually so well kept in check now exploded.

“They will not kneel to you, or any other of your misguided brethren” A deep voice came from somewhere behind them and the Terminators parted to allow the hulking individual that was once Calas Typhon walk through. His Manreaper held high, the Herald of the Plague god himself stood proud before his former father.

Mortarion watched the thing that had been his First Captain stand before his company. The silence stretched for what seemed like hours, but in fact was only seconds. With a speed that defied the house of disease that Typhus now was, he lashed out with his man reaper and tore the uniform of the Deathshroud warrior open, and then allowed the flies within him to engulf and devour the Astartes within. The Deathshroud died without a sound and that was when the fighting started.

Icarus could scarcely contain his disbelief that whatever Grulgor had become, he was not even flinching at the bolter rounds that hit him, tearing chunks of flesh from him, yet as soon as a wound appeared it was covered over with the slime that covered his body.

He had lost half his squad some to the Second Company warriors who tore into them like they were paper, and others to Grulgor and his plague ridden claws. If Icarus survived this then he doubted he would ever forget that sound, his brothers dying words as they succumbed to the virulence that was infesting their body, what horrified him more was that moments after they seemed to die, they rose up and joined the ranks of their corrupt brothers.

Grulgor laughed, if you could call it that “I wanted it to be Garro” He spoke “Show him what a true lord of Death looks like, but come my brother give up the fight join us”

Icarus looked at the runes on his visor; the timer that his Sergeant had set was nearly at the final second. He did not need to say anything to his brothers, they knew they would not see the next dawn; something had to be done to stop this madman and his sick god, or whatever it was that was changing the Death Guard into something else.

Their runes blinked in silent acknowledgement. Quickly he blinked the status of his company, they had done as he had asked, and they had left their dead and returned to their vessel, the thing that was Grulgor extended his arms and his fingers plucked through one of the other Death Guards visors, straight through his eyes and pouring the virulence into him.

Icarus saw the body shake several times and the gargled scream was silent. Astartes knew no fear they said, but that was not entirely true, they were not afraid of death, after all it was what every warrior sought, an honourable death in honourable battle. This was neither, this was having their souls ripped from them and changed into something not alive, not dead.

What made it all the worse was that it was one of their own doing this, this was what the cold hand of fear now crawling up Icarus’s spine was for, the death of all he and his brothers were becoming something that rotted for eternity.

He stepped back with the remainder of his warriors and sent a silent message to his father, whether Mortarion would get it he did not know. The advancing silent plague marines raised their bolters and the grinning demonic visage of Grulgor leered at him.

“That is good Icarus, welcome my brother”

“We are his unbroken blades,” Icarus removed his helm an act followed by his brothers “We are his Death Guard”

Grulgor opened his mouth just as the explosives detonated.

 

The Explosion tore up through all the decks, running through them like a great volcanic inferno, incinerating all and everything in its path, a secondary explosion ripped through the Imperial Army Barracks rending the shuffling corpses to ash. The Astartes, those that carried the plague and those that had yet to be reanimated were burn inside their armour,

Grulgor turned as the bridge imploded out, the windows vented into space and his warriors with it; He snarled an angry denial and was sucked into the vacuum of space. Icarus saw the pox marks on his skin and like his remaining brothers opened his arms and welcomed the cleansing flames that whooshed over them.

Grulgor vanished from view, as Icarus’s skin scorched and burnt the last thing he saw was Grulgor shimmer than seemingly vanish back into whatever dimensional hell he had come from. Icarus closed his eyes as the Eternal Scythe vanished in a ball of oblivion.

 

The Iron Blood was silent now; the dead had been taken to the Apothecarian to have their gene seed removed. Perturabo stood looking at the rows of Imperial Fist dead he was lost in thought and for a while no one uttered a sound.

“How is Amon?” Perturabo asked suddenly as his gaze fell on the dead Librarian.

“He will recover Lord” Forrix replied.

“Did they get anything from him?”

“Not that I am aware Lord, but I am not a Librarian” Forrix turned to the young Librarian that had come to the Custodes defence “Ryax?”

Ryax stood straighter, aware that his father’s cold blue eyes were now on him, however he did not look directly at his father, more to a point just over his shoulder. In the presence of one such as he, one did not look at him for fear they would forget completely what they were about to say.

“From what I saw My Lord he was tearing into Amons distant memories, whatever the late Sigillite put into Amons head, it was well buried,”

“So we are going to have a problem” Forrix sighed “They know Amon is alive and they know he has something in his head, they will not stop until they get it, and heaven help him if the Emperor gets onto him”

Perturabo nodded and ran his hand down his face. “Give me some time to think about this, for now we still have a battle to fight, I believe my brother needs some assistance so, have the Master turnabout and head towards the Death Guards position. I will not abandon his sons when I can help make a difference, and get those bodies off my ship, before they stink up the sanctity that is my heart”

Forrix turned then stopped “Father, what if their gene-seed is pure?”

“What?”

“If their gene seed is untainted then we can use it”

The silence was like a shroud, for a moment it looked like Perturabo was going to blow his stack, but suddenly a broad smile crossed his face, at this time he had to be pragmatic and this was one of them times.

“Forrix, walk with me, the rest of you see to your duties Apothecary, extract that gene seed and take it to be tested”

“Yes Sire”

Forrix walked alongside the Primarch and he did not utter a word until they were alone. “Explain to me why you came up with such a – idea”

“Father, the Imperial Fists have a successor chapter and being on Terra their gene seed is plentiful, ours will run out eventually, be it through lost warriors unable to be harvested or should anything happen to you” He almost felt his voice catch at that thought, Perturabo nodded slightly and waited for him to continue “if the Fists seed is pure not only will the next generation have your skills but the skills of the Fists encoded.”

“Half breeds?”

“The situation might call for it Father,”

Perturabo folded his arms across his chest and sighed “Ok, we will do this but Forrix, any son who is implanted with the genes of both, is not to be ostracised, in this war I will not have the Iron Warriors split down the middle or begin petty infighting. I already am aware that my sons are all of differing humours, and that some seek to garner their own ends.” He raised his hand to forestall any words from Forrix “Aside from my Iron Circle who I created I am aware that you are not one of them, you have been a reasoning voice to me Forrix, you and my old friend Isolde.”

Forrix shifted uncomfortably, his father’s words about him had made him swell with pride but the next sentence made his mood drop “Father, we have had a message from the Olympian Sun, with all the fighting going on I could not tell you, Venerable Isolde is dead, killed by the Dark Angels. Captain Jasiera and his company fought the Dark Angels and…there is a report that you should read when this is all over”

Perturabos face remained unreadable and Forrix did not repeat what he had said, the Primarch turned on his heel and walked away, he said nothing and did nothing but Forrix knew that it was not the time to follow him, he closed his eyes and then after a moment honouring the souls of his dead brothers he went to ready his company for what surely lay ahead.

 

Mortarion took the deaths of his loyal sons as strength, the last Deathshroud with him died defending his father. To spare him the horror of what was happening to the other dead Astartes, Mortarion took his head and raising his gaze focused on the torment of his troubles.

Typhon or Typhus as he was now referred himself, was laughing as the warriors of the Seventh were cut down, all across the Terminus Est casualty reports were building, and there were those of the Seventh who became the reborn Dusk Raiders, however Mortarion in the despair that followed was bolstered by the news that those sons still fought their enemies, wanting death in the cleansing fires of their brothers flamers.

The Terminus Est. seemed to groan as the battle continued, Mortarion thought he heard her savage heart turn against all that she had been and now was, the walls started releasing new toxins and pestilence the likes of which even his gene enhanced perfect physiology had trouble keeping up with.

The Death Guards famed resilience was being put to the test, he saw Garro savagely take down two terminators, his beloved sword Veritas keeping his dance of death going. The Death Lord focused his attention on the source of such madness and with his mighty Manreaper and his Lantern, began cutting a path through the Enemy, enemy, who would have thought that he would be calling his own sons, the product of his own genome, enemy.

“To the Primarch!” Garro shouted and instantly his warriors followed their father, protecting him from all sides.

The Dusk Raiders fell back, finally remembering that their father, although not as broad as some of his other brothers, there was no less violence inside him and when that was released it was as thunderous and dangerous as any of his other brothers. His face, lit up with the fury of not just a father betrayed, but a father in mourning.

His sons should die in honourable battle, not as slaves to a power that only sought to corrupt them. The Terminators of First Company tried to escape the fury of their father, but with the Seventh closing in around them they were cut down by not just his manreaper but the weapons of the Troublesome Seventh.

++I want Typhus Alive++ Mortarion voxed, his voice broking no argument and no divergence from his orders.

Typhus was no slouch in the slaughter stakes and he took his own toll on the Seventh and even his own brothers who did not want to face the fury of their Primarch. Eventually he came face to face with Battle Captain Garro and the smile, although not seen was heard in his voice.

“You should not have betrayed the one that brought you honour Battle Captain” Typhus sneered “There is still time for you to become one with the grandfather”

Garro said nothing, every fibre of his enhanced being told him to cut this traitorous bastard down, every ounce of him raged at what had happened to his brothers, if Typhus wanted to throw his lot in with the so called gods of the warp that was his downfall but, to bring his own brothers with him….that just galled the Astartes Captain.

“Grulgor wanted to battle you, I will do it instead and when you are weakened you will become one with the Grandfather and serve the Emperor”  
Garro dodged the stinking hulk before him and closing his fist threw it into Typhus’s head, a blow that would have killed a normal human, as it was it sent Typhus’s head snapping back. A boot to his jaw sent him sliding backwards into the rotting walls. Garro advanced on the First Captain ready to pummel him into oblivion.

Typhus brought his own manreaper up and blocked the attack; Garro had to move less the infested weapon cut his armour and riddle him with whatever lurked within that corrupted Terminator armour. Garro wasn’t sure if the horn jutting from the middle of the Helmet was decoration or real, he did not want to know if the truth be told.

Typhus pushed him back and began showering blows down on the Sevenths Commander; this was the reason that Typhus was the First Captain, his sheer strength and brutality made him the Alpha Astartes and as strong as he was, Garro was not strong enough to fend off the Captains attacks. He began to feel himself black out when suddenly Typhus was picked up and hurled across the empty space, now littered with the dead and the dying.

The giant stood over his battered Captain protecting him and as the former First Captain got to his feet he saw the true nature of his father, he saw the betrayal lined on the Death Lords face and in his eyes, the air of Barbarus being breathed in quicker as the Primarch seethed and leeched his anger.  
Before Typhus could stand fully Mortarion grabbed him by his gorget and raised him up, his hand tightening around the fused armour neck joint and snarled in the lounge of his home world.

“You were my solid companion, the one I trusted with my deepest council, and this is how you have paid me back Calas, betrayed all I gave you to sign your soul to that bastard Lorgar and his sons. Do you think I am completely stupid, you were friends with his sodding First Chaplain, how else would they know where we were and what we were doing?”

He felt the First Captain stat to go limp in his grip then dropped him. He kicked the unconscious body across the space between them and returned to Garro, helping him to his feet.

“Order the men back to the Indomitable Will Nathanial, you and I are going to do this alone”

Garro did as his father ordered, angered that he had to leave the honoured dead behind, but he did not want any contagion to come aboard the Primarchs vessel and infect the rest of the Legion. Without a thought Mortarion slung Calas’s body over his shoulders and headed down to the engine room.

 

The Emperor smiled as Vulkans’ eyes finally opened. Once he got his son from his healing tube he laid him on a bed and covered his naked body. It had taken weeks for him to undo the damage that the Khan had wrought on his brothers’ body.

He sat down beside the bed and taking Vulkans onyx hand in his held it tight. The Salamanders were lost without him, they needed their father and he would give him back to them, Vulkan was an artisan of war, and he needed his son to beat that anvil again, the Fireborn would march once more with their father at their head.

He smiled in relief as he felt Vulkans hand tighten around his “You were wrong Malcador” He spoke quietly to himself “I am not what I once was, I am better than that”

“F-father?”

He glanced down at his son and smiled warmly “Rest Vulkan, you have fought your own battle, now rest and allow your body to fully heal.”

“My sons….”

“Your boys are fine they are under the guardianship of Numeon” The Emperor assured “I will inform them that you are awake and will be with them when I deem it necessary for you to do so”

Vulkan licked his dry lips and with his father’s help sat up and was handed some water. The Emperor ran a paternal hand over his sons’ bald scalp and smiled warmly, the joy that he had managed to save his son from the injuries that Jugathi had inflicted on him was a personal triumph.

He sat in silence as Vulkan slowly drank the water and inside heaved a sigh of relief.


	7. Chapter 7

The battle was over; the only corrupted vessel to escape into the Warp was the Tempus Fugit. Mortarion had ordered it left alone; it would be dealt with another time, now they needed to recuperate and bury their dead.

The Blood of Iron had battled its way through and saw off the Tempus Fugit, causing it to limp to the safety of its new foul master. Perturabo now stood in the engine room of the warped Terminus Est. hanging above a large pit was the still unconscious body of Calas Typhon. Below the seething foul heat of the vessel churned.

The warp core seemed to have a life of its own, eager for the sacrifice it was about to receive. When Perturabo had seen what had become of the Death Guard aboard here he felt sick to the stomach. Yet another failing of their fathers wrong judgement.

Calas eventually came round to see his world upside down. Mortarion stood with Garro and Perturabo; all three men had impassive looks on their faces. He struggeled but, the ties that bind him were too strong and eventually even he gave up trying and focused his blurred vision on his Primarch, ignoring the other two.

Mortarions expression said it all, not one word needed to be said, he had not slain his former First Captain, he had wanted him to see his executioner and not die in battle. It was then that Typhus realised that the hive he contained was gone. The grandfather had decided to forget him, he had failed the Plague god, and so, everything he had been granted was gone. He also realised that he was naked. His armour had been pulled from him to reveal the stinking husk that he had become.

Toxins raged through his body, cutting down any barriers in their way but his Astartes physiology would not let him die. Even though his insides were black and rotted to beyond all recognition.

He wanted to scream but his tongue had fallen out, his eyes were on the verge of dropping from their sockets and where the hive had been, great porous rents in his body wept not blood but puss that stank the entire room like a great house of the sick and dying.

Mortarion moved to the edge of the warp core and pulled leaver. Typhon’s gaze never left his father’s face, even as his eyes fell out his face remained on the Death Lord until he was gone. Mortarion waited until there was no trace of his traitorous Captain, the trio left and returned to the Indomitable Will, once aboard Mortarion made his way to the bridge and watched as the Terminus Est. was destroyed.

It would take a while but he would restructure his Legion but for the moment he had something else to do. He ordered that the names of every member of the First, Second and Third Companies be struck from his Legion records. Perturabo took his leave, having ordered to meet up with the Olympian Sun, but they parted closer than they had been before.

Mortarion made his way to the secret Apothecarian where two Astartes from the Seventh and Fifth Company lay. Believed in the battle but in truth in a deep sleep that they were just coming out of, now ne stood before them and glanced at their readings, his own manipulations had ensured that it would appear to be that way. He stood between them as they sat up.

“You will be Sergeant Crasian of the Seventh and Brother Terroa of the fifth no more. What I offer you is the chance to be by my side, to join the other five of your former brothers in my Deathshroud.

You must never speak again except to me and only me, to your companies you will be dead. I will have your names written on the Wall of the Fallen on Barbarus. Well, do you wish to become brothers of my personal guard?”

Both Astartes swelled with pride and nodded. Apothecary Daxon the only member of the Death Guard who held the secrets of the Deathshroud stepped into the room and took charge. Mortarion told the two Deathshroud with him to help their new brothers into their armours and left them alone.

 

Perturabo waited as his Apothecary Kadiz and Tech Priest Nockana came to him with the results of the gene-seed testing. Apart from one or two instances that had been disposed of, despite the fact they were warring with things from the warp, their gene seed was surprisingly stable.

He ordered them stored and sent to Olympia to be implanted into the next generation and the Novitiates aboard would also receive the mixed Gene-seed. Hours later he was aboard the Olympian Sun, taking the Warsmiths oath from the new Commander and seeing to the Internment of Jasiera into a Dreadnought.

As he headed to the hall of the fallen to pay his private respects to his fallen friend, he stopped as he saw Sergeant Lennax returning from the hall. The Sergeant was so lost in thought that he didn’t see his Primarch and almost walked into him. The Expression on his face was almost comical when an oath that had started to fall, suddenly fell away to a choked sound from his throat.

Lennax immediately moved to one knee and bowed his head, his twin hearts hammered in his chest violently and the love he had for his father rushed over him until tears fell down his face openly.

Perturabo held his giant hand out and pulled the Sergeant to his feet, “Why are you here Nedinius?”

Lennax almost fell when he realised that the Primarch knew his name but managed to regain his composure.

“I have come to honour our fallen My Lord, before we continue with our allotted course”

Perturabo motioned to a seat across from the honoured wall of honour and both men sat down. The Primarch was silent, and poor Lennax did not say a word, not sure if he should but then realised that he probably could not, even if he wanted to.

“So tell me Nedinius….about the young human that your squad is calling the Iron Sister……”

 

Amon stood in the hanger waiting; beside him stood Forrix both men were alone. The Stormbird in the Livery of the Thousand Sons slowly came to a halt when suddenly First Grand Companies honour Guard appeared and lined the dropping ramp, their weapons across their chests.

Amon was about to say something when Perturabo came in and all present snapped to attention. He rested a hand on Amons shoulder.

“You will need to add two more names to your list Amon, for after speaking with Mortarion we want you to add Barbarus and Olympia to your names.”

“You honour me Lord” Amon bowed his head “I will do it as soon as I am able”

Perturabo stood to one side to allow chapter serfs to approach, between them they carried a great suit of armour done in the style of the Custodes but in the livery of both Death Guard and Iron Warrior.

“You are a brother of both” Perturabo simply said “When you reach Kegara, give Magnus my regards and tell him….tell him I miss our discussions”

“Yes Lord”

“I know you prefer to add your names yourself but I have personally added your other names, but I will leave it for you to add your new names”

“Thank you Lord”

Amon did not know what to say, he had been the last of his caste, and now he had been accepted into the Astartes brotherhood, not something he had ever expected to happen. With a deep bow to the lord of Iron he went to board the Stormbird and then stopped. He removed two items from his Custodes uniform and gave them to Forrix.

“Would you see that my two human friends get these?”

Forrix turned the objects over in his hand, one was a carved image of Alyce Springs on a clasp, and the other was the symbol of freedom from the land he hailed from on the other clasp.

Forrix nodded and watched as Amon left his view, he waited until the Stormbird was gone, brought his arm across his chest in salute and walked away.


End file.
